


you're a god & i am not

by staunchly_anonymous



Series: the mixtapes [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Parental Death, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Requited Unrequited Love, Sports related injury, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 43,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staunchly_anonymous/pseuds/staunchly_anonymous
Summary: It was hard not to wonder what could’ve happened if Jeff had just found the courage to say something.





	1. good enough is one thing i'll never be

Jeff threw himself onto Kent’s sofa, propping his feet up on the coffee table. “I ordered Chinese!” he called, assuming his voice would carry up the stairs. “And we’re watching _2 Fast 2 Furious_!”

“No, dude! We talked about this! I don’t want to watch that shit!” Kent came down his stairs, rubbing at his damp hair with a towel. He was wearing that Samwell Hockey shirt that Jeff half wished he didn’t have and half wished he wore constantly because of how tight it was. “Pick something else, man. Anything.”

“Anything?” Jeff grinned.

“No,” said Kent, throwing his towel at Jeff’s face. “You know what I mean.” He ducked into the kitchen.

“So you want to watch _The Great Mouse Detective_ again, eh?”

“I like _The Great Mouse Detective_ ,” Kent said, throwing himself down on the sofa next to Jeff. He leaned his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes and settling a cold can of sparkling water on them. They’d had a particularly tiring practice that day, and Kent always worked too hard as it was. “What did you order?”

“I picked stuff at random,” Jeff said, draping Kent’s towel back over his blond head.

Kent cracked an eye. “You did not.”

“Yeah, who knows what you’re gonna get? It could be anything!” Jeff stretched his arms up over his head. “Maybe I got you egg foo yung. Or those cream cheese crab things. You like those, right?”

Kent turned his head to look at Jeff.

“Fine,” Jeff said, letting his arm rest across the back of the sofa. “I got General Tso’s chicken. And some fried rice. And lo mein.”

“Was that so hard?” Kent asked.

“I’m turning on _2 Fast 2 Furious_ ,” Jeff said.

“Don’t,” Kent said, and it was a bit of a whine.

They were halfway through _The Great Mouse Detective_ when Kent’s weight sagged against Jeff’s side. His head was propped on Jeff’s shoulder and when Jeff turned to look at him, he sighed. Fast asleep, like usual. Kent’s eyelashes were dark gold against his skin. Jeff sighed.

Kent always fell asleep watching movies. He never intended to, but Jeff knew how this worked. There was a reason he had a spare toothbrush in Kent’s guest bathroom cabinet and a drawer in the guest room. Spending the night at Kent’s place just kind of seemed to… happen. It wasn’t unusual at all for him to stay over and wake up in the morning to go running with Kent before practice.

Shifting, he redistributed Kent’s weight a little, settling him against his side in a less neck-pain-inducing way. Dragging a blanket off the back of the sofa, he smoothed it over both their laps before switching the television over to American Pickers.

He was such an idiot.

There was a time when Jeff thought he was pining after straight golden-boy Parson, a time when he thought that he’d be lucky if he could just manage to actually be friends with him for real. That was before he’d realized that Kent was gay, and _way_ before he’d watched Kent fall in love with someone else. It was hard not to wonder what could’ve happened if Jeff had just found the courage to say something. It was harder to watch the warm smiles Kent gave his phone when texting.

It was hardest when he was curled up on Kent’s sofa with the warm weight of him pressed against his side. It was only a ghost, Jeff imagined, of what actually _being_ Kent’s boyfriend would feel like, of what an actual life with him would be.

It hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can also check out [jeff's sweet jams](https://playmoss.com/en/zombi/playlist/jeff-s-sweet-jams).
> 
> this whole thing will be a series of moments, memories, and scenes that will all tie in together, somehow, as jeff's story. in case it isn't obvious, this story takes place in the [hummingbird heartbeat 'verse.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7671250/)


	2. every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kent has just been drafted to the Las Vegas Aces. As we know, he went first in the draft. It was not the best night of his life.
> 
> 2009

“Given what happened with the Zimmermann boy,” Christopher was saying, “they thought it’d be best to have him live with an older player.”

“Oh, you know I don’t mind,” Bethany said. “We have room, and I could use another set of hands. And I feel bad for him, a little.”

“You guys are keeping a rookie?” Jeff asked, poking his head around the corner. It had to be Parson, since Zimmermann was mentioned. It wasn’t unusual for a rookie to live with an established player, but Christopher had a wife and three kids. They never asked him.

“Just for now,” said Bethany, glancing his way. 

“Because of the --”

“Yes, Jeff,” Christopher said. 

“You should try to come over and help him out,” Bethany added. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeff grinned. “I’ll help him out. No sweat.”

Christopher and Bethany converted the office in their home to a bedroom -- after all, neither of them really used it. It was upstairs and down a hallway, which Bethany thought Kent would appreciate because it’d separate him from the kids a little. Jeff helped pick furniture for it, deciding to just… decorate with navy blue and grey because it was easy and simple. Nobody could fault a plain room like that.

Kent arrived on a Thursday. It was hot, summer in Las Vegas, and when he met them at the airport, he was in jeans. Everyone had agreed not to ask him about the draft or the Q at first, mostly because Bethany was convinced it’d be too awkward and Chris… well, Chris almost always sided with Bethany about everything.

Julianna had wanted to make a sign for Kent so he’d know it was them. Jeff agreed it was a good idea, but when it came down to helping her  _ make _ said sign, it turned into stick figures and a little drawing of Christopher’s house and a diagram of the family that said HI KENT right in the middle. There was glitter involved. It was not a very professional banner. In fact, when they stood together at the airport, Jeff felt a bit… nervous, looking over at Julianna and her proud, bright smile.

Kent was easily recognizable. He rounded a corner and spotted them immediately. He was quick to smile, heading for their little group while adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder.

“Oh, wow,” he said, stopping in front of the banner, “is this for me?”

“I made it,” said Julianna. 

Kent grinned down at her, his smile warm. “Yeah? I must be  _ really _ special,” he said. “I wish someone would’ve told me I was gonna be met at the airport by royalty.”

All Jeff’s nerves melted away.

Kent thanked them for meeting him, introduced himself politely, insisted he could carry his own things -- but he did let Julianna carry his hat after she asked. The flight from New York was long, and he was clearly tired. He stared out the window the entire ride back to the house. When they arrived, he followed Jeff up the stairs. When they stepped through the door into the room that would belong to Kent for at least a year, Kent sort of… stared.

“It used to be the office,” Jeff said, because he didn’t know what else to say. There was a desk, chair, and full size bed in the room, but not much else. It had a closet already. It was a relatively bare space, but it was clean and had large windows on one side. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Bethany said, shifting the baby on her hip, “it’s not the biggest room we have, but --”

“It’s great,” Kent said. He set his bag on the bed. “Thank you.”

“Hopefully the kids won’t be too loud,” Jeff said.

“I like kids,” said Kent. “It’s no trouble. I appreciate you letting me stay here, really.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Christopher said. “Besides, you can take Jeff off our hands and we’ll all be thankful for that.”

“Hey!”

Kent laughed. “I have a feeling we’ll be busy, anyway,” he said.

“You will,” said Bethany.


	3. you're monochrome delirious you're nothing that you seem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2009

Jeff stuck close to Kent, figuring that's what 'helping him out' meant.

Granted, they weren’t the same age, because Jeff was coming to the Aces with a degree from Boston University, but still. They were new together. They’d be practicing together a lot, and everyone knew Parson had gone first in the draft. While Jeff had been expecting to play hockey with Jack Zimmermann, nobody could deny that Parson was a good player in his own right.

In fact, Kent Parson was truly gifted when it came to hockey. He was fast and intuitive and really, really good at getting his teammates the puck. He worked hard, stayed late, gave his all. He was constantly working on speed. His shots were beautiful.

 _He_ was beautiful -- not that Jeff noticed.

Jeff and Kent integrated into the team with ease, both of them quickly agreeing to nights out with the other guys. There were only a few awkward moments where someone asked Kent about Zimmermann and he seemed to freeze for a half second, but once he’d declined to talk about it a few times, everyone quit asking. Kent deflected questions with humor at a pace Jeff envied, managed to say the right thing or change the subject whenever he wanted. He was always laughing and grinning at the right times, and he joked around with the guys easily. He was a people person, sort of -- a guy’s guy, or at least a tame version of one. Kent had partying down to an art, always stopping after one drink but making it _seem_ like he’d had more, something Jeff had figured out only by accidentally getting Kent’s tab at a bar. Staring down at the bill, Jeff frowned, coming to a realization all at once.

 _Everything_ about Kent was crafted.

He wasn’t a people person, not really, even though he always pretended otherwise. He didn’t really like parties, he didn’t like drinking, and he never, ever, _ever_ invited anyone out first. At Christopher’s house Kent was quiet and polite and very clean. He listened to top 40 pop music. He read books, played guitar, had a picture of him and Zimmermann in the Q by his bed, and did chores for Christopher without being asked. He played with the kids, cooked dinner, and went to church every single Sunday. On roadies he usually just listened to music, tended to fall asleep easily, and he hated having the hotel bathroom door shut.

And he had nightmares. Awful, screaming ones. The first time he woke Jeff up on a roadie, he’d thought Kent was dying. Hearing it quickly dismissed as _just a dream_ didn’t sit well with him, but Kent refused to discuss it. He bought Jeff a pair of earplugs from a pharmacy, presenting them to him without comment.

Jeff thought things were going just fine.

Kent answered the door one Monday with baby Oliver on his hip. His hair was messy and he had his glasses on. “Hey! I volunteered us for babysitting duty. You don’t care, do you?”

Jeff sucked in a quick breath. Why did his stomach hurt all of a sudden?

Oliver babbled, tugging at Kent’s shirt collar. “I know, buddy,” he said, turning away.

Jeff followed Kent into the house. “No, I don’t mind,” he said. He loved Christopher’s kids. Being an uncle was one of his favorite things in the world. He just hadn’t expected _d’you wanna hang out on Monday_ to be babysitting.

Not that Christopher and Bethany didn’t deserve a date night. And, as it turned out, chilling at home and watching the kids with Kent was… really fun. They cooked dinner and played with the kids and when the baby was fussy, Kent settled on the sofa with him and watched cartoons. It was easy. Comfortable. Kent asked Jeff quiet, thoughtful questions about his early childhood education degree and paid attention to his answers. Once they’d put the kids to bed, they played rock paper scissors over what movie to watch and when it ended up being Kent’s pick, he chose _The Little Mermaid_.

Jeff began to spend more and more time at Christopher’s house. The more time he spent with Kent at home, the more Kent seemed to relax around him, and it showed on the ice. They played very well together, and soon Jeff realized that he was almost always on the same line with Kent. They were having… a pretty great first season in the NHL.

After their third straight win on a roadtrip, Jeff and some of the guys decided to celebrate their clinching a spot in playoffs. They had two days off between games, so it wouldn’t be a problem. “C’mon, Kenny,” Jeff said, pulling on a jacket. Maybe a drink or two would help Kent sleep. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t call me that,” Kent said. “And thanks, but I’m fine -- I’m just gonna chill.”

“Dude, I’m allowed to celebrate,” Jeff said, frowning. “And so are you. Lighten up, Parse, fuck.”

“This is why I always beat your ass at practice,” Kent said. “No self control.” He grinned.

“You do _not_ \--” Jeff paused, realizing Kent was doing it again, changing the subject as easily as breathing. “Look, man, why don’t you ever want to come out?”

“I go out,” Kent said. “I just don’t want to tonight. It’s no big deal.” He shrugged.

Jeff shook his head. “Whatever, it’s fine. I just --” _I wanted you to come._ “-- Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“Thanks for the invitation,” Kent said.

Jeff threw a pillow at him. “Fine. I’ll be back later.”

When he returned, hours later and several drinks deep, Jeff brought a blonde girl back to the hotel with him. She was nice and laughed at his jokes and yeah, she probably just knew that he was a professional athlete and he wouldn’t remember her name tomorrow, but if she didn’t care, why should he? “Hey man, you wanna --?”

The unspoken _get the fuck out_ was obvious.

“Yeah,” Kent said, glancing to the girl, no doubt realizing she was entirely different than the one the night before. “Have fun.” He grabbed a pillow slipped out the door, heading for Christopher’s room, most likely.

Jeff tried not to think about Kent Parson while he had another blonde’s mouth on his dick.

It didn’t work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're assuming that the underage kenny p has gone to bars in the way that many underage people do. nuff said


	4. answer me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2009

“You wanna talk about it?” Jeff asked, awake at two am because of Kent’s screaming. Again. Jeff sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

“No,” Kent said. He was sitting up in bed, one hand pressed to his forehead.

Jeff frowned, flipping on the lamp. “Dude, I’m -- you know you do this all the time, right?”

Kent glanced at him, frowning. “What?”

“I just mean, you know, I’m a light sleeper and you do this a lot. I mean, it’s been going on for months now? And I’m not gonna judge you or whatever, like if you’re embarrassed about whatever you keep dreaming about it’s okay, but like --”

“I’m not _embarrassed_ about it,” Kent said, cutting Jeff off. “I just don’t want to talk about it. Okay?”

He never wanted to talk about it. They’d spent almost an entire _year_ not talking about it. Jeff shook his head. So embarrassed was the wrong word choice. Noted. “Okay, but --”

“If you want a different roommate the rest of the season I understand,” Kent said. He wouldn’t look Jeff in the eyes. “Sorry I’m keeping you up. I didn’t mean to. I’ll, um. I’ll ask if you want.”

That wasn’t at all what Jeff wanted. With playoffs fast approaching, changing room assignments would mess up an entire team of superstitious hockey players. Not to mention taking away Jeff's favorite part of being on the road. “No,” he said. “That’s not what I meant.”

Kent gave him a tight-lipped smile.

The tense silence between them settled into Jeff’s stomach, heavy and tight. He ran a hand over his hair again, scrubbing at his scalp for a second. What could he do? How could he make this better? Kent dodged it every time Jeff tried to talk to him about it.

Jeff sighed. “Scoot over,” he said, after a moment.

“What?”

Grabbing the remote, Jeff left his bed for Kent’s, perching on the edge of the mattress. Kent hadn’t moved a centimeter. He switched the television on and pushed at Kent’s side. “C’mon.”

Kent scooted over, a frown on his face. “What are you doing?”

“We’re watching Lifetime, dude,” Jeff said. “Shut it.” The movie on Lifetime was _Odd Girl Out_ , and he leaned back against the headboard of the bed after scooting in under the comforter. Glancing at Kent, he bumped their bare shoulders together for a second. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You wanna raid the vending machine?”

Kent’s smile was slow, shy. “Yeah,” he said.

They ended up with a pile of chips, two sodas, three kinds of chocolate, and one package of fruit snacks. Kent stole the fruit snacks out of the pile first, and they had a small argument over which kind of brown soda was superior, with Kent winning the right to drink the actual Coca-Cola they’d purchased. Jeff settled for Pepsi and a Snickers and running commentary on the Lifetime movie.

Kent made it halfway through _Odd Girl Out_ before falling asleep, curled up against the pillows. Jeff shifted, glancing at Kent. His lashes were long, dark gold against his skin. Jeff lifted a hand to brush a bit of hair off Kent’s forehead before pulling it back, sucking in a quick breath. Bad idea.

Jeff turned the television off, scooting a little lower in the bed. “G’night,” he said, just before shutting the lamp off. Kent hadn’t moved. Jeff crossed his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. They both slept through the rest of the night.

Neither of them mentioned it in the morning.

It made the playoffs much more bearable. Jeff quit asking Kent what his nightmares were about, and Kent quit pretending he didn’t have them. When it happened, they just turned the television on and sat close, but not _too_ close, watching something awful until Kent fell asleep. While it made the remaining roadies much nicer, it did _nothing_ for the tightness in Jeff’s stomach when he looked at Kent.

In fact, it was kind of making it worse.


	5. dog eat dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2009

Jeff turned the bar over, looking at the label. 30 grams, he needed 30 grams of carbohydrates for one hour of exercise. He’d have to pack for practice, like always. Tossing the bar into his bag, he set his insulin pump on the counter and went upstairs to find Kent.

“You have a lot of food in that bag,” Kent said, leaning over.

“Yep,” said Jeff. “Gotta.”

“What, you’ll starve before practice lets out?” Kent laughed.

“I’m a type I diabetic,” Jeff said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

Kent frowned. “And they let you play?” 

“My bloodwork’s probably better than yours,” Jeff said, “and -- obviously.” Hadn’t Kent seen him eating during practice a bunch of times already? He’d definitely gotten a bunch of questions from other guys about what the fuck he was doing when he checked his sugar on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” Kent said, two seconds later, following Jeff out to his car, “I was just a dick to you, wasn’t I?”

“Little bit.” Jeff tossed his bag into the backseat. “Get in, we’re gonna be late.”

“We’re not gonna be late.” Kent threw himself into the front seat.

When he was a kid, figuring out the whole insulin and blood sugar situation in first grade was frustrating. Jeff remembered hating the nurse who taught him how to give himself insulin, and hating the doctor, too. By the time he was in high school, he’d tied it to his performance on the ice, and he’d become meticulous. In college, he’d educated the coaches as well as his teammates about what he needed, and everything worked out just fine.

At the combine, when being evaluated by the endocrinologist, Jeff spent forever in a time-consuming and somewhat circular conversation, becoming more and more worried by the minute that they wouldn’t clear him to play in the NHL. His numbers were great. Hell, he had a better hemoglobin A1C than lots of people who  _ weren’t _ diabetic. 

Being cleared to move forward was a weight off his shoulders -- but the thought that teams might not want to take him because of his diagnosis hovered constantly in the back of Jeff’s mind. It would certainly make sense, regardless of how conscientious Jeff was, regardless of how hard he worked. In the end, when the Aces drafted him, he’d decided he didn’t care  _ who _ he played for.

It was the first moment that Jeff could remember really wanting, more than anything else, to be an NHL player.

“So…” Kent nudged Jeff’s arm. “You’re being weird, today. I’m sorry, all right? I wasn’t trying to be a dick to you, I can’t believe I didn’t notice before, and --”

“It’s fine,” Jeff said, glancing at him. “Seriously. Sorry, I was just… thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” said Kent. When Jeff glanced at him again, he was grinning.

“Whatever,” Jeff said.

After that, Kent was always hovering somewhere on the edges of Jeff’s awareness, checking in with him if he hadn’t seen him eat recently. When Jeff accidentally forgot to take his pump off before a game, Kent had spare things in his bag. He always kept food around, trying to frame it in a coincidental way, but --

Well, Jeff tried not to think too much of it, but it was nice, somehow, knowing that he was on Kent’s mind.

  
Even if it was just his blood sugar. And if Jeff hugged Kent just a  _ little _ longer than everyone else, well. It was just because he appreciated the concern.


	6. don't ever change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very late 2009/early 2010

“Hey,” Kent said. They’d just gotten back to the house after an afternoon at the children’s hospital with several other team members. “What’s wrong?”

Jeff turned to look at him. “What?”

Kent tilted his head. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.

“I --” Jeff hadn’t said anything, he was sure of it. 

It was stupid, anyway. He didn’t have any right to be so upset after visiting those kids in the hospital. They loved it when the Aces came, anyway. It made them happy. And Jeff should be happy because  _ they _ were happy, it was just --

It was just that it hurt so  _ bad _ . 

Kent hadn’t said anything. He was just waiting, looking at Jeff with soft brown eyes. 

“It’s stupid,” Jeff said, after a minute. He looked down at his hands.

Kent sat next to him on Christopher’s sofa. “I’m upset about stupid stuff all the time,” he said. 

That brought a small smile to Jeff’s face. “It’s just --” he paused. Fuck, no matter how he said it, he’d sound pathetic. It was so, so stupid. “It’s just seeing those kids.” He took a breath.

“It’s sad,” Kent supplied.

“Yeah, but --” Jeff shook his head. That wasn’t it. It wasn’t enough to describe how tight his throat felt, the ache in his chest. He hated visiting the hospital. 

And he hated himself for that, for being so selfish.

“It’s not fair,” he said, after a minute. “To be so upset about it.” After all, Jeff didn’t have to live with it, did he? His reality was hockey and money and living his life how he wanted. He could walk out of the hospital and leave it behind. Those kids and their families -- they lived with it every day. Jeff swallowed, shutting his eyes against the burn of tears. Damnit. He pressed his hands to his face.

Kent scooted a little closer before he slid an arm around Jeff’s shoulder, leaning in to hug him. Jeff didn’t know how long they sat like that, Kent just holding him and both of them ignoring the tears. After a while, Jeff sniffed, scrubbing his wrist across his eyes.

“Okay?” Kent asked, voice soft.

“Okay,” Jeff said.

Kent pulled away just a little. He rubbed Jeff’s shoulder. “Cool,” he said. “All right.”

“Sorry,” Jeff said. He rubbed his face again, letting out a soft laugh. “I probably just need to eat or something.”

Smiling, Kent stood up. “How about macaroni and cheese?” he asked, and Jeff laughed for real.

“Sure,” he said. “Sounds great.”

Later, when Jeff was pulling on his shoes to go home, Kent leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “Hey,” he said, just as Jeff stood up to leave.

“Yeah?” Jeff fished in his pocket for his keys.

“I think, um. I think it’s great, you know,” Kent said. “Having a big heart. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “thanks, man.”

Kent gave him a shy, soft smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“‘Course,” Jeff said. “See you tomorrow.”


	7. down with the sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> january 2010

Sitting on his bathroom floor, Jeff frowned at his phone. Should he text Christopher? It wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself. He didn’t _need_ Christopher. It was just a stomach bug, and he had Gatorade and maple syrup and stuff in the apartment. Plus, Christopher had so much to deal with anyway.

Leaning his head back against the bathroom wall, Jeff sighed. Rubbing at his forehead, he grimaced when his hand came away sweaty. _Ugh_. That was the last time he’d eat sushi in a landlocked area, that was for sure. Not that he could be sure it was the sushi, because he was going on day two of this ridiculousness, and that probably made it a virus --

Swallowing, Jeff looked at his phone again. The screen was shaking. He typed in the passcode and opened messages, writing one out quickly.

_will you come get me_

Christopher’s response took a few minutes to appear. _yeah why r u ok_

 _Stomach virus_. Jeff set his phone down again, leaned forward to rest his forehead against his knees.

_How long?_

_Started yesterday. thought i was fine this morning bt i bolused for lunch and didnt keep it_

_I’ll be right there._

He should probably rub maple syrup or honey on the inside of his cheeks while waiting, but the kitchen was _so far away_. Taking a slow breath, Jeff shut his eyes. It’d only be a little bit, right? It was fine. His heart was racing, and he took another breath. It was fine. It was fine.

When his bathroom door pushed open, Jeff looked up. Christopher held out a small plastic bear full of honey.

“C’mon, bud,” he said. “Let’s get to the hospital. Did you check ketones?”

Jeff shook his head. He should have checked them, but he had been a bit… occupied, honestly.

“That’s okay,” Christopher said, “that’s all right. C’mon.”

Kent pushed into the bathroom behind Christopher, holding a pair of Jeff’s shoes. “I got some shoes,” he said, as if they couldn’t see them. What was he doing there?

Jeff looked back up at Christopher, who shrugged. “He was kind of freaking out,” he said. “I figured I’d better bring him.”

After putting honey in his mouth, Jeff shoved his feet into his shoes and followed Kent out to the car. Christopher made sure their seatbelts were on before heading for the hospital.

Kent was quiet in the car, glancing over at Jeff with wide, worried eyes when he thought Jeff wouldn’t see. What was his deal?

“I’m gonna be fine,” Jeff said, even though his stomach was churning. Fuck, was there a plastic sack or something in Christopher’s car? He didn’t want to throw up on the seat --

Kent put a hand on Jeff’s shoulder when he bent over, coughing into a grocery sack. There wasn’t anything _in_ his stomach any more.

Sometimes, when he went to a hospital, the doctor he saw was familiar with type I diabetes. Sometimes, not so much. This time, they did normal things like IV fluids and a medication for nausea, but the doctor said Jeff’s test wasn’t positive for ketones.

“Are you sure?” Christopher was in full dad-mode. It was irritating as _fuck_.

The doctor said he was going to consult endocrinology, and Jeff closed his eyes, dropping his head back against the table. Christopher sounded pissed, said he wanted somebody else, and eventually a different doctor came in, informing them they’d misread the results and --

Jeff wound up admitted to the hospital. Once he was in the room, safely tucked into a bed, Christopher got on the phone to let the team know what was going on. Jeff rolled onto his side, pressing his face against the pillow. At least whatever they’d given him had stopped the vomiting.

By the time he woke up, the room was dark. Pushing up onto one elbow, Jeff looked around for the clock. It was evening, close to dinner time. Kent still sat in the chair next to him, staring. He’d _stayed_? Why? Jeff blinked. Kent perked up when Jeff looked at him.

“Hi,” Jeff said, after a minute.

“Hi,” Kent said. It looked like he’d been twisting some kind of paper? between his fingers. His lower lip was a bit red from biting. Being in the hospital seemed to be really stressful for him. Maybe he just... didn’t do hospitals? Bad experience? Either way, he looked exhausted.

“Where’s Christopher?” Jeff asked, glancing around, then back to Kent. “Did you stay this whole time?”

“Oh, uh. He had to go home for a little bit,” Kent said. He hunched his shoulders, looking down at his hands. “I can, um. I mean I said I’d stay, and he’ll be back, so --”

No need to keep going. He wasn’t _upset_ that Kent stayed or anything. “Okay,” Jeff said. “Thank you.” It was nice of him.

Kent’s head snapped back up, eyes wide. “Oh -- uh, you’re welcome,” he said, after a minute.

Jeff smiled and then turned his head, looking for the bedside table. “Do I have any water in here?”

Later, with the TV on and at least a bit of apple juice kept down, Jeff glanced at Kent. He hadn’t stopped staring yet. It was weird. “Hey, man. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kent said, quickly. “I’m fine. I’m -- fine.”

Jeff frowned. Maybe Kent just didn’t like hospitals or something? “You’re like… staring at me, though,” he said. Reaching out, Jeff ruffled Kent’s hair with one hand. “Hey. I’m gonna be okay. This is no big deal, it’s just a stomach virus or something. I’m more worried about the manager thinking they wasted a draft pick on me, anyway --”

“Nobody thinks that!”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “okay.”

Kent smiled a nervous little smile. “So you’ll be fine?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jeff said.

“Are you sure?” Kent asked.

“ _Kent_ ,” Jeff said. Jeez. What was his deal?

Kent shifted in his chair. “Does this happen a lot?” he asked, after a few minutes went by.

Man. He was really worried, huh? “No,” Jeff said. “Seriously, it’s just a stomach virus. I’ll be totally fine.” He glanced at his tray table. “You want my jello?”

Kent blinked. “Seriously?”

“I only like the green one,” Jeff said.

“Oh my god,” said Kent, but his shoulders had relaxed a little.

Jeff grinned, reaching out to ruffle Kent’s hair. “Tell them I want soup,” he said.

Trying to brush his hair back into place, Kent ducked out from under Jeff’s hand. “ _You_ tell them!”

Jeff laughed.


	8. why do we crucify ourselves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains discussion of abusive aspects of the roman catholic church in particular
> 
> 2010

Kent was up early. Again. Jeff groaned, rolling over.

Every Sunday, somehow, no matter what city they were in, Kent found a way to go to mass. A lot of the time he went to ridiculously early ones to fit it in around their schedule, and since Jeff was such a light sleeper, he had to listen to Kent’s attempts to get ready quietly. Sometimes, he managed okay. That was not one of those times.

Pulling his pillow over on top of his face, Jeff groaned louder. “ _ Parse _ . Please. Why the fuck.” It was still pitch-dark out. It was so unnecessary. 

“I just gotta go to mass,” Kent said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jeff threw the pillow at him. “Get out,” he said. “Shut the light off when you go.”

He knew Kent went to mass every Sunday. Bethany had taken him before, dropping him off and picking him up without comment -- Christopher, like Jeff, had no desire to associate with the Catholic church whatsoever. They’d grown up with their grandmother’s stories about the boarding schools, with her fierce insistence that they were  _ native _ people with their own culture and identity and that one could never, ever, ever trust a priest.

Usually, in Vegas, Kent went to church alone.

One Saturday night, in Philadelphia, Jeff was just scrolling through his phone looking for a restaurant when Kent got out of the shower.

“Hey,” Jeff said, “you wanna get dinner?”

“I’m going to mass tonight,” Kent said. “You can come with me? We can eat after.”

Kent had asked Jeff to go to mass with him before -- not often, but it had happened. And maybe it was because Jeff hadn’t slept too great the night before and maybe it was because he seriously needed to eat, but that night? That night he just couldn’t take it.

“No thanks,” he said, “I don’t believe in mythology. You have fun, though.”

“O… kay,” Kent said. “I was just asking, damn.” He shrugged his shirt on, moving to button it up.

“Maybe shouldn’t be swearing before you go to church,” Jeff said, not looking up from his phone.

“Like I’m gonna let a heathen like you tell me what to do before church,” Kent said, tone light.

Heathen. “Fuck,” Jeff said, looking up from his phone, “why are you  _ like _ this?”

“Me?” Kent finished buttoning his shirt. “Why are  _ you _ like this?”

_ What? _ Jeff stared for a moment, willing himself not to completely lose his shit and start screaming. “Seriously?” he asked. “Why am I like this?”

“It’s just  _ church _ ,” Kent said, “I’m -- look, it’s fine, I won’t ask you again, but you don’t have to be a dick about it.”

He didn’t have to be a  _ dick _ about it?

“One hundred and fifty  _ years _ , Kent,” Jeff said, slowly. “One hundred and fifty years of residential schools. One hundred and fifty years of our kids being taken from our homes, forbidden to speak our languages, prevented from learning our culture. Do you -- do you have any  _ idea _ what they did to our people? To those kids?”  _ To my family? _

“I --”

“They destroy people, Kent,” Jeff said. “That’s what they do. So no, no I don’t want to come listen to some celibate priest tell me how to live my life. Okay?”

Kent took a breath. “Look,” he said, “I know that the church has some fucked up history, but it’s better now, and --”

Jeff laughed. “It’s  _ better _ ? Really?” He doubted that very much. 

“Going to mass makes me happy, okay?” Kent pulled his jacket on. 

Happy. Right.

Kent so obviously had issues with guilt, low self worth, doubt -- and where did he think those came from? Children that grew up with constant reminders of their inadequacy, dirtiness, and worthlessness became adults who struggled with feelings of guilt and shame, who could never feel clean, worthy, valuable, adequate, or forgiven. People who could never be at peace.

Religious indoctrination haunted people for their entire lives. It was abuse -- emotional, psychological, sometimes physical. And somehow,  _ somehow _ , people couldn’t see it.

Kent couldn’t see it.

“I’m going,” Kent said, after the silence between them had stretched too long. “Have fun eating dinner or whatever. Try not to be such a  _ fucking _ asshole when I come back.”

“I’m not afraid to be who I am,” Jeff said.

Kent slammed the door when he left, and Jeff winced.

He’d lied. 

He was a little afraid.


	9. my heart is sick of being in chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2010

A light knock at the door startled Jeff. Getting up, he headed for the hotel room door, yanking it open. “What --” he blinked.

Kent was standing in the hallway.

“You have a room key,” Jeff said.

“I know,” said Kent.

“It’s your room, too,” Jeff said. Why was he  _ knocking _ ? Was it because of their fight a week ago? They hadn’t discussed it, choosing instead to just go about their business and pretend it never happened. Honestly, Jeff thought everything was… mostly fine. He rubbed his forehead and stepped back, allowing Kent inside.

Kent sat on the edge of his bed, chewing his lower lip. They hadn’t talked a whole lot over the week, but Kent had those quiet periods, and Jeff hadn’t tried to drag him out to chat. “I, um.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize,” he said. 

Oh. 

Okay. So they were doing this now, then. Not like they had a game that night, or anything. Jeff sat on his own bed. “Me too,” he said.

“No, I -- you don’t owe me an apology, I -- I shouldn’t have said that stuff to you,” Kent said. He glanced up at Jeff before quickly looking away. “I’m sorry. I, um. I didn’t think about what I was saying and I didn’t mean to make you so mad, I didn’t --” he let out a soft sigh. He twisted his hands together, picking at his nails.

“Yeah,” said Jeff, “I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I didn’t know,” Kent said. “About the schools, and -- and stuff. I looked it up. I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah,” said Jeff, “I sort of, uh, figured that out.”

“And I didn’t mean anything by it when I called you a heathen,” Kent said, his words all coming out in a rush. “I was only joking. I didn’t think about, um. Anything. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jeff said. “Just don’t, y’know. Don’t do it again.” He took a breath. “Maybe don’t go around calling people heathens?”

“I know,” said Kent, “I know. I’m sorry. I really am.”

He’d said it three times, at least. 

“Look, it’s  _ okay _ , Parse,” Jeff said. Honestly, he’d been rude, too, even though he knew he was right. Kent hadn’t meant anything by it, asking him to go to mass. He probably thought it was friendly and nice. “I’m sorry I was kind of a dick when you were just asking me to go somewhere with you.”

Kent hunched his shoulders. “I won’t do it again.”

Jeff tilted his head, looking at Kent for a minute. “Yeah, man,” he said. “Okay.”

“I can, um. I can ask Coach Scott if you want a different roommate,” Kent said.

What? Frowning, Jeff glanced back up at Kent’s face, at the bitten red of his lower lip where he’d pulled at the skin with his teeth. “No,” he said. “Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t -- it wasn’t that big of a fight, c’mon.” Where the fuck was that coming from?

Kent nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. It was a reaction that Jeff didn’t really understand, a reaction so much bigger than the fight called for. Why?

“Was it?” Jeff asked, after a minute of watching Kent pick at a string on the comforter. “That big of a fight?”

“I don’t know,” Kent said. 

Jeff sighed. “Scoot over,” he said, after a long moment of silence passed. 

Kent looked up, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Scoot,” Jeff said. “ _ Jurassic Park _ is about to come on. We’re gonna watch it. Okay?”

“O… kay.” Kent scooted over, making room for Jeff in his bed. When Jeff climbed in and settled, slinging an arm around Kent’s shoulders, Kent stiffened a little.

“It’s fine,” Jeff said. “We’re good. Okay?” He tightened his hold just a little. “We’re never gonna agree about religion, but that’s fine, yeah?”

Kent nodded, glancing at Jeff’s face. “Of course,” he said. 

“Besides, this isn’t American Football. Nobody cares about that shit.” Jeff ruffled Kent’s hair. “Forget about it, yeah?” He changed the channel on the TV.

It took Kent half the movie to really relax against him, but he did. 


	10. how do i know when it's love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summer 2010; the end of Kent's first season in the NHL

“Here,” Jeff said, holding his granola bar out in Kent’s direction. It was their last flight home for the season, and everyone was tired. He and Kent were next to each other like usual, everything about traveling just one big routine, now.

Kent took it without looking. “Peanut butter?”

“Pretzel,” said Jeff, “yeah.” They both liked peanut butter the best, and Jeff was so used to Kent asking for a bite of his granola bar that he’d started just handing them over once he opened them.

“Mmm.” Kent took a giant bite and handed it back, still chewing. “It’s good.” He leaned back in his seat. They’d be taking off soon. “Hey, Jeff?”

“What?” Jeff paused, headphones halfway on his head. 

“Thanks,” Kent said.

Jeff smiled. “Yeah, man,” he said. “I didn’t do anything, but you’re welcome or whatever.” He pressed ‘play’ on his iPhone, settling into his seat for the remaining hours. He fell asleep listening to Oasis.

The Aces won the Stanley Cup and Kent went back to New York for the summer. 

Jeff missed him. They texted a lot, of course, both in the groupchat with the guys and otherwise, but it wasn’t the same. But it was weird, now, going to Chipotle and only getting food for himself or letting them put cheese on his burrito again because Kent wouldn’t be eating any of it. They’d both started watching  _ Parks and Recreation _ and Kent sent him beautiful pictures from Tonawanda, but it was odd eating french fries with no one stealing some off his plate. Going running by himself in the morning wasn’t as fun as going with Kent. Their phone calls gradually lengthened, and when Jeff wasn’t out having fun with his friends he was often on the phone with Kent, just talking.

Maybe it was the fact that Jeff hadn’t mentioned Kent’s nightmares to anyone, or maybe it was just that they’d been travel and hotel buddies for their entire first season, but Jeff was starting to feel like he was getting to know Kent. Between talking about television or workouts they talked about Jeff’s life in Canada and what his family was like, which led to what Kent’s family was like. Details seemed to come from Kent at random, small things here and there, never all at once.

“My mom’s engaged,” Kent said, one night when they were talking while watching  _ The X Files _ .

“What?” Jeff sat up on his bed. 

“Yeah.” Kent sighed. “I mean, it’s fine, you know? I don’t want her to be lonely forever, or anything -- and he seems nice, I guess.”

“You guess?” Jeff rolled over onto his stomach. “Well is he nice or isn’t he?”

“I don’t think he likes m--  _ oh _ , shit! Did you see that?” They were watching the episode about the killer clones.

“Yeah man, twins are creepy,” Jeff said, trying not to laugh. He ate a chip, crunching loudly for a minute. “And dude, that’s ridiculous,” he said. “Everybody likes you.” Well, most everyone. Kent was good at getting along with people.

“Nah.” Kent paused. “They met at church. And I think he, like. Would appreciate a nuclear family, you know?”

“No,” said Jeff. What did that mean? Wasn’t a nuclear family just two parents and the kids?

“Well, whatever,” Kent said, “it’s still weird being here. I mean it’s fine, but it’s just -- different. I guess I haven’t really lived at home in a long time. I was thinking about buying mom a nicer house.” He was quiet for a minute. “ _ Fuck _ , I’m gonna have nightmares about this now, aren’t I?”

“Growing up is weird.” Jeff paused. Commenting on Kent’s nightmare quip didn’t seem sensitive, so he decided to skip past it. “Hey. D’you wanna come back to Vegas early?”

Kent laughed. “Why, you miss me?”

“Shut up,” Jeff said.  _ Yes. _ “I just thought you might wanna get out of town. Y’know, with your mom’s boyfriend and all.”

“Actually,” said Kent, “I do, yeah.”

“Chris won’t mind,” Jeff said, “or you can just stay with me, if you want.”

“Okay,” Kent said. “Thanks.”

Jeff picked him up from the airport alone. 

As they sat in In n Out, Kent picked fries out of Jeff’s basket, a little tuft of hair sticking out from his backwards ball cap. They’d both ordered a double-double and french fries, and Kent’s fries were gone already. He hadn’t smiled very much.

“Didn’t they feed you in New York?” Jeff asked.

“Well, yeah,” Kent said, in between bites, “but I’m trying to put weight on.”

“By eating all my fries?”

Kent leaned his chin in his hand. “You’re such a good friend.”

“You’re buying next time,” Jeff said. “And I’m getting two burgers.”

“Fine,” Kent said. 

When they made it back to Jeff’s apartment, Kent threw himself down on the sofa, taking up the whole length of it. “What a long flight,” he said, closing his eyes. He’d dropped his bag by the door, wiggling out of his sneakers while doing so.

“Scoot,” Jeff said, once his shoes had joined Kent’s. Honestly! It was his apartment.

“I can’t, I’m stuck this way,” Kent said, not moving a muscle.

“Okay, suit yourself.” Jeff shrugged and then flopped down on top him, leaning back against the sofa. “Ahhh,” he sighed. 

“Get off!” Kent squirmed. “You’re too heavy!”

“I’m gonna play some Call of Duty,” Jeff said, ignoring the demand. “You wanna play?”

“Oh my god! You’re so fucking heavy!” Kent attacked Jeff’s sides, attempting to tickle him. “Get off!”

They ended up wrestling for a few minutes before Kent landed on top and grabbed for the video game controller. His eyes were bright as he laughed. “Call of Duty!” he said. “Right?”

“Yeah,” said Jeff, relenting. “I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“You wish,” Kent said, cheeks pink. 

Jeff smiled as his stomach wobbled just a little. “We’ll see,” he said, firmly squashing the feeling down as they turned the video game on.

  
He let Kent beat him in the first round.


	11. te vas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2010, beginning of Kent's second NHL season

“You wanna go out?”

Jeff stared. Surely he heard that wrong. “What?”

“Out,” Kent said, in a tone that implied he was being patient. “Do you want to go?”

“Uh --” Kent never asked anyone to go out first. Maybe he wanted to start their second season off differently? “Who else is going?”

“Me?”

Oh. Kent was asking Jeff to go somewhere with him _personally_ , not as a part of a group. Jeff took another breath. “Uh, yeah, man. Where do you wanna go?” There were tons of places to choose from -- it was Vegas, after all. Jeff had gone to quite a few with some of the other guys, though he couldn’t say he’d ever gotten out on the floor much.

“Dancing,” Kent said. “I don’t care where, really.” When Jeff opened his mouth, Kent raised a hand. “Scratch that. I do care. No country.”

Jeff laughed. Given what Kent listened to normally, he assumed they’d be looking for the clubs. Dancing wasn’t usually Jeff’s thing, mostly because he wasn’t that good at it -- but that didn’t mean he didn’t know where to go. “I got you covered,” he said. At least, he hoped he did.

He’d expected Kent to dress up for going out. His game day suits were always perfect, so Jeff had assumed he’d wear something other than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The nicest thing Kent had on was his watch.

“That’s what you’re wearing?”

Kent laughed. “It’s okay to be jealous,” he said. His jeans fit perfectly, like always, and even though he was just wearing a striped t-shirt and derbies, he somehow looked… really put together. More put together than Jeff ever did in jeans and a t-shirt.

Maybe that was just because most of Jeff’s t-shirts were band shirts? Regardless, he felt a little overdressed in his navy button-down.

“You’re gonna be hot,” Kent said, eyeing the long sleeves.

“I’ll be fine,” Jeff said.

“Suit yourself.” Kent breezed past Jeff, heading for the garage. The clear, fresh herbal scent of his cologne lingered for just a moment, and Jeff sighed.

When Kent said he wanted to go dancing, he meant it. Jeff picked a crowded place where it would be easy for them to blend in, and before he realized it, he’d lost track of Kent somewhere in the crush of people on the dance floor. Jeff didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but Kent’s dancing was definitely dirtier than he’d counted on. Kent seemed to find new partners easily, and he looked comfortable and happy. It was extremely distracting, and Jeff wasn’t sure if it was because he was still learning what kind of person Kent was or if it was something else.

They met back up at a table where Kent drank water, his smile easy and warm. He’d been dancing for over an hour, while Jeff had danced maybe two songs in between people-watching. “This is fun,” he said.

“Yeah, going out’s not all bad,” said Jeff. “Glad you finally picked up on that.”

“Shut up,” Kent said. “One of the girls I was dancing with was telling me about a salsa place.” He reached for Jeff’s cup, his own empty already. “What is this?”

“It’s jack and coke,” Jeff said.

“Anyway,” Kent said, taking a quick gulp before setting it back down, “it sounds fun. You wanna go? I mean, I don’t dance salsa but think it’s just like, a Latin dancing place so it should be okay.”

Jeff did not dance salsa and he _definitely_ didn’t understand the rest of Kent’s sentence. Why would it be okay if they didn’t know how to do it? “Uh -- sure,” he said, wondering how deeply he was going to regret it in the morning.

“Cool. I’ll find her,” Kent said.

Jeff wondered if he was looking for the blonde or the brunette he’d been dancing with.

As it turned out, Kent did know how to salsa. Or -- he knew how to do _some_ kind of dance they were doing at La Jolla. He changed partners a _bunch_ of times, and he looked like he was having even more fun than he’d had at the first club. After embarrassing himself once by trying to get a girl to show him some moves, Jeff ended up just sitting and drinking and watching people. When Kent finally joined him some time later, he was a bit breathless.

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” Jeff asked. Kent looked hot, and Jeff pushed a glass of water over to him.

“My mom loved dancing, so I kinda grew up doing it.” Kent laughed, picking up the glass. “Why, you want me to teach you?” He tossed back a large gulp of water.

Glancing out at the dance floor, Jeff watched a couple for a minute. It looked so complicated, and they were awfully close together. He flicked his gaze back to Kent’s flushed face. God. Okay. “Yeah, why not?” Jeff laughed. “I can up my celly game.”

“Oh,” said Kent, “really? I mean, I will. ‘Cause you can’t dance, right?”

“I never said that!” The back of Jeff’s neck was hot.

Kent leaned his chin in one hand. “Yeah, you can’t dance.” He grinned again, a moment later. “I saw you with that girl. Good try, man.”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Whatever, don’t be a dick,” he said. He looked back out at the dance floor. “That blonde you were dancing with was cute,” he said.

“I guess,” said Kent. He drained the water glass. “Okay. I’ll teach you how not to make a fool of yourself next time we come here, all right?” He stood, holding out a hand.

“What, _now?_ ” Jeff stared. There were several other same-sex couples dancing at the club, but --

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Kent said. “It’ll be obvious I’m teaching you, anyway. Don’t worry, I know how to follow, too.”

“I’m not worried,” Jeff said. Following meant the girl part, right?

“Yeah, okay.” Kent grinned. “C’mon. I’ll go easy on you.”

  
It turned out that the style of dancing Kent knew was called bachata.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's a video of some women dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lNFl-IF97U) to the song that was in my head for this.


	12. he's everything you want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> september 23, 2010

“Hey, so,” Kent said, holding out a package. Bethany and Chris were putting the kids to bed after letting them sing the birthday song, which left Kent and Jeff down in the living room alone. “Happy Birthday or whatever.”

Jeff grinned, swiping it out of Kent’s hands before throwing himself down onto the sofa. “Thanks, man,” he said. It wasn’t very heavy. He shook it, listening for any rattling. “What is it?”

“You can open it, dumbass,” Kent said.

Jeff laughed and ripped at the wrapping, just comics from the Sunday newspaper. “Couldn’t even pony up for real wrapping paper, huh Parse?”

Kent shrugged, sitting down next to Jeff. He pulled his lower lip in under his teeth, chewing at the skin just a little.

Jeff looked away, focusing on getting into the plain white box in his lap. Kent had really taped it up good, holy shit. What was the point of -- 

“Oh,” he breathed, staring down into the box at a brightly colored comic book. Holy  _ crap _ . “Wow. Man. This is --”

“ _ The Amazing Spider-Man _ number 129,” said Kent, fidgeting a little. “The first appearance of the Punisher.”

Jeff didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t realized Kent was actually  _ paying attention  _ to him when he was rambling about comics. Getting to know someone could be difficult, and Kent was… kind of more reticent than Jeff had expected. He’d kind of just talked about himself while trying to draw Kent out -- and it was working, it was just. Kent had probably heard way, way more about the Punisher and Spiderman than he’d ever wanted to, all things considered. He wasn’t really a comic book guy.

And this was a really specific comic. “Dude.” Picking the comic up out of the box, Jeff carefully turned it over. 

“You were looking for it, right?” Kent asked.

“Yeah,” said Jeff.  _ He remembered. _

And, damn. It was perfect: bright inks, tight binding, sharp corners. Kent must’ve looked for it forever. “It’s so awesome, man,” Jeff said, turning it back over. “What grade is this?” 

“Um,” said Kent. “9.8.”

“It -- is it  _ signed _ ?” Jeff’s chest whole chest was warm. He ran a finger over the signature.

“Yeah,” Kent said, hunching his shoulders just a little. 

Jeff took a moment to carefully set the book down on the coffee table before tackling Kent, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Oh --” Kent fell over a little, laughing. “Okay, wow. You’re welcome!”

“It’s fucking perfect, dude,” Jeff said. “I can’t believe you remembered that I was looking for this one, I didn’t even think you were listening to me --”

“What?” Kent pulled back and ruffled Jeff’s hair, smiling the crooked smile that Jeff had learned meant he was actually happy. “C’mon. You love this shit.”

Jeff’s stomach wobbled just a little. “Yeah,” he said, “I do. Thank you.”

Kent cleared his throat after a moment. “So, uh,” he said. “Can you like, read it? Or is this a collecting thing?”

“Oh, I’m totally gonna read it,” Jeff said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because jeff isn't the only one who notices things about his best friend......


	13. anywhere you go i'll follow you down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2010, late late summer/early fall

Jeff brought the mail in with him, kicking off his shoes as he stepped inside out of the blistering heat that Vegas's excuse for autumn. “Hey! There’s mail!” He dropped his keys on Christopher’s kitchen cabinet, juggling a large box and several magazines. Setting everything down, he peeked at the name on the heavy box. 

Kent Parson.

“Parse! There’s a box here for you!” Jeff yelled. He opened the fridge and grabbed a can of Coke. Cracking it open, Jeff leaned on the counter. The soda’s acid-sweet taste burned in his mouth.

Kent padded into the kitchen, feet bare and hair wild. He’d obviously been asleep, even though it was two in the afternoon. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. Yawning, he stretched. “I thought you were coming at two.” When he leaned over to look at the box, he frowned. “What’s this?”

“It  _ is _ two,” said Jeff. “Did you forget to set an alarm again? I told you to stop taking a nap without an alarm, you’re gonna be so fucked next week when we play Boston.”

Kent tore at the tape on the box, deliberately making as much noise as possible. “Whatever, man.” Flipping the top open, he peered down into it and froze, muscles in his shoulders tight.

“What?” Jeff asked.

“Uh -- nothing,” Kent said. He closed the top of the box. “I gotta, um.” He took the box and left the kitchen as Jeff stared after him.

What the hell was in that box?

After half an hour of silence, Jeff went upstairs to check on Kent. His bedroom door was open, and Jeff leaned on the frame, peering inside.

Kent was sitting cross legged on his bed, a book in his lap. It looked like a bible. 

“Hey, man. You okay?” Jeff asked, voice soft. He stayed in the doorway.

“This was my dad’s stuff,” Kent said. He dragged the edges of his fingers down the leather front of the bible. There were other things scattered around him on the bed -- photos in frames, clothing, a rosary, books, a police badge. He was wearing a green hoodie that Jeff couldn’t remember seeing before.

“Can I come in?”

Kent scrubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes before he looked up. “Yeah,” he said. “Whatever.”

Edging into the room, Jeff approached the bed slowly. Picking up a silver picture frame, he looked down at the photo. A tall police officer with a familiar sunny smile and sandy hair beamed at the camera, a chubby baby on his hip. The officer had that same cowlick Kent had, his face littered with the same soft freckles. “He looks like you,” Jeff said.

“I look like him,” said Kent. He looked at the photo in Jeff’s hands and ran a hand over his hair. It didn’t help the mess. “I don’t think my mom likes it.”

His mom. She’d just gotten engaged to someone over the summer, right? “Did she send you all this stuff?” Jeff asked, setting the photo down next to a brown leather wallet.

“Yeah,” Kent said. He looked back down at the bible in his lap. “I, um. I think she’s kind of, you know. Moving on.” He brushed a finger over the embossed name on the front of the book --  _ Adrian Parson _ . “‘Cause of Dan.”

Jeff eased himself down onto the bed next to Kent, pushing a soft blue sweater to one side. A small stack of murder mystery novels toppled over, and he tried to catch them before any of them slid off the bed. “I’m sure she thought you’d appreciate having this stuff,” he said. It looked like Kent’s mom had sent him everything she had left that had belonged to his dad, and he tried to imagine wanting to part with every last thing that linked him to someone he loved.

Kent turned a ring over in his hand. He swallowed. “She even sent me his wedding ring,” he said, and his voice was rough. 

“I’m sorry, bud,” said Jeff, because he had no idea what else he could say. 

“It’s fine,” Kent said. “I mean, it’s -- it’s -- it is what it is. It’s fine.” He brushed his hand over the blue sweater, picked up the police badge and ran his thumb over the printed letters. Glancing at Jeff, he twitched the corner of his mouth in what Jeff assumed was meant to be a smile. “I want her to be happy,” Kent said. “I do.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jeff leaned forward a little, looking at the faded logo on Kent’s hoodie. “This come in the box, too?” He paused. “Your dad was a  _ North Stars _ fan?”

Kent laughed a little. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“I thought you’re from New York!”

“I  _ am _ !” 

“But your dad was a  _ Minnesota _ fan? Something doesn’t add up,” Jeff said, teasing just a little.

Kent was smiling again, and the knot in Jeff’s stomach relaxed just a little. “Yeah, yeah,” Kent said. “You’re just mad it wasn’t Calgary.”

“Calgary,” said Jeff, defending his hometown, “is a wonderful city. Everyone should love it.”

The smile on Kent’s face softened just a little, and he glanced away from Jeff. “Yeah,” he said, “I’m assuming.” Glancing back down at the bible in his lap, he set it aside.

“He would’ve been proud of you,” said Jeff.

“You don’t know that.”

The urge to wrap his arms around Kent burned in Jeff’s chest. Putting his hand on Kent’s back was a poor substitute for pulling him close, but Jeff didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. He let his thumb gently stroke over the fabric of the hoodie, worn and soft. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “Yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the blue sweater that Kent received in this chapter is the same one he is wearing years later in HH ch27.


	14. i wish you'd just say more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2010, fall/winter

Kent never got into fights on the ice. He was smaller than a lot of guys, and he tended to rely on speed to get him out of things. He avoided penalties because he never came out on the better side of them, and that was just fine. Kent was worth a lot more to the Aces than checking, even just one year in -- he’d even gotten the A, and it was only his second year in the NHL.

So for Kent to get five for fighting? Something _had_ to have gone wrong.

Not that Jeff would know, because he was too busy talking to a medic about whether or not his knee was okay. He’d taken a rough check in the second period, not coming back for the third. His knee would be fine, they said, but he might need to sit out a couple of games.

He’d known something was wrong as soon as the rest of the guys made it back to the showers after the game. Kent was pissy, tossing his equipment around with a disregard that was completely unlike him. He avoided looking at Jeff and, from the sounds of it, snapped at someone else in the hallway and might’ve punched the shower wall once he was in there. Everyone was giving him a wide berth, and Christopher shook his head at Jeff, fending off his questioning glance.

When Jeff boarded the bus, Kent didn’t say a _word_ to him. Kent had a cut above his eyebrow, a deep scowl on his face, and he flinched away from Jeff’s attempt to investigate. They both sat there, saying nothing, as the bus rolled out of the parking lot. After half an hour of silence, it was too much to take.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jeff asked, glancing over.

“ _Nothing_ ,” Kent snapped. He twisted in his seat, facing the window.

“Yeah,” said Jeff, “and I’m the queen of England.” Kent didn’t say anything. Jeff rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_ ,” he muttered, speaking Stoney, and if he’d said he didn’t relish the dirty look it earned him from Kent, he’d be lying.

They didn’t talk the entire way home.

Jeff didn’t understand what he’d done wrong, but Kent was definitely avoiding him. It was apparent about a week later, when he still hadn’t gotten a single text and he’d been shot down any time he’d suggested going running or cooking like they always did. If Kent still lived with Christopher, it wouldn’t matter -- but now that he lived alone, it was easy for him to hide.

It was irritating. Jeff couldn’t imagine what he’d done -- he’d taken a check! That was it! -- to warrant such behavior. All he was sure of was that Kent pulled away from hugs faster than he used to, and he wasn’t making eye contact very often. When they spoke, all Kent asked about was Jeff’s knee and whether or not he was okay. It didn't seem like he believed Jeff when he said it would be fine, but he also didn't seem too interested in discussing it, either. Kent excused himself from conversations earlier than he ever had.

Maybe he’d guessed? Jeff knew that they’d been spending a lot of time together, lately. Christopher had remarked on it, and Jeff had to wonder if he was being too… obvious. That couldn't be it, though, could it? He was still seeing women. He _knew_ everyone saw him with women. Still, even if that were the case, it wasn’t right for Kent to ignore him like that -- he hadn't done anything! At least, he hadn't done anything that he knew of.

The irritation of it all saw him standing on Kent’s doorstep on a Wednesday night, ringing the doorbell. When Kent pulled the door open and frowned, Jeff felt his shoulders sag. Now that he was standing on Kent's doorstep, he didn't know if he could keep the righteous indignation thing going. Kent's hair was a soft blond mess, his eyes tired behind his glasses. He was wearing a faded Quebec Nordiques shirt and soft sweatpants, his feet bare.

“What’s up?” Kent asked, opening the front door. He didn’t move aside to allow Jeff to enter.

“I know you’re pissed at me,” Jeff said. “I just don’t know what I did, and I’m -- it’s really pissing me off, okay? Just tell me. Tell me why you’re mad.”

Kent took a breath. “I’m not mad,” he said.

“Bullshit,” said Jeff.

Kent stepped aside, pulling away from the door but not closing it. “You wanna come in?”

Jeff stepped inside, but he didn’t feel better.

“It’s not you,” Kent said, after a moment of silence.

“Oh, yeah, great,” said Jeff, “next you’re gonna say, what? It’s me? _It’s not you, it’s me_? Like a fucking breakup?”

“It is,” Kent said, hunching his shoulders.

“Shut up.” Jeff rubbed his hands over his hair in frustration. “You’ve been like this since that game. What the hell, Parse? Fighting? Is it because you --”

“I just --” Kent closed his eyes, a muscle jerking in his jaw. When he opened them again, the steely grey of them gleamed in the low light. “I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

Carried away? Jeff stared.

“It won’t happen again. And I’m -- I'm not _pissed_ at you. Okay?” Kent’s gaze was steady, but Jeff couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

“Fine,” said Jeff.

“Fine,” Kent said.

Jeff lifted an eyebrow. “The least you can do is feed me, then.”

The corner of Kent’s mouth lifted in a smile. “I have macaroni and cheese,” he said.

“Perfect,” said Jeff. “Put extra butter in it.”


	15. we're dans la maison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2011, the end of Kent's second year in the NHL

Kent was young to be named Captain, but he was perfect for it. He’d done well with the A the previous year, and because he’d also done well with leadership in the Q, it wasn’t much of a stretch to picture him with the C. Kent always worked hard and he was friendly with everyone on the team.

"He handles himself very well and takes care of his teammates in front of and with the media, which we think is very important,” said coach Scott in an interview.

“See?” Jeff elbowed Kent. They were watching it at Jeff’s apartment, both sprawled out on the sofa after a day of training.

“Yeah,” Kent said. He seemed a bit shocked by the whole thing -- he’d thought Christopher would be named the next Captain.

Jeff glanced at him. “Hey,” he said, softening his tone. “It’s cool. You deserve it.”

“I thought lots of guys did,” Kent said. He scratched behind Kevin’s ear.

There was no point arguing with him about it. Kent tended to blow compliments off no matter how sincere they were. Jeff ruffled Kent’s hair. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

“We _just_ ate!”

Technically, they’d eaten an hour ago. “I don’t care.” Jeff stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “What d’you think about tacos?” Kent never turned down tacos, though they different preferences about where they should come from.

“Mmm…” Kent pursed his lips.

“I’ll take you to Tacos el Gordo,” Jeff grumbled, relenting.

Kent grinned. “Deal,” he said.

“You’re buying,” said Jeff.

Later, when he was getting ready to leave, Jeff went upstairs to say goodbye to Kent. The bedroom door was cracked, and he could just barely hear Kent on the phone.

“-- I don’t even know why I’m calling you. I know you don’t care. But I -- I got the C.” The weight of his voice settled over Jeff like ice. “I miss you,” Kent said, almost a whisper. “I don’t even know if you listen to my messages. But I miss you.” A pause. “I know you don’t miss me.” There was enough silence for Jeff to conclude that Kent hung up, and he took a step away from Kent’s bedroom door.

Jeff decided he hated whoever Kent was calling.


	16. nothing compares to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2011

“So?” Kent asked, following Jeff up the stairs to his apartment. “What’s the deal? Who’s your new best friend?”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, Parse!” Jeff unlocked his front door. “It’s cute, though. Don’t worry. You’ll always be my number two.”

“Whatever,” Kent said.

They stepped into the apartment to see a big, skinny dog laid out on the sofa, head propped up on the armrest. It wagged its tail.

“This is Kevin!” Jeff beamed. 

“Oh!” Kent grinned. “Hi, Kevin!” He waved.

The brindle greyhound didn’t move. Kent blinked. 

“They’re lazy dogs,” said Jeff. “That’s what they told me at the place.”

“He has your eyes,” Kent said.

“She’s a girl,” Jeff said, staring at the gangly dog. She stretched. “I love her.”

“If it’s a girl then why did you name it Kevin? And is she supposed to be that skinny?” Kent asked.

“She’s a  _ greyhound _ , Parse,” said Jeff. “And when I was a kid my imaginary friend was a girl named Kevin, so I thought it’d be cool to have a real girl named Kevin for a friend.” He sat next to Kevin and stroked a hand over her head. “Huh, girl? Yes.”

Kent smiled. “You’re weird,” he said. 

“Yep.” Kevin laid her head in Jeff’s lap and he grinned up at Kent. “She likes me. See?”

“What’re you gonna do with her when we’re out of town?” Kent asked.

“Oh, I’ll ask Bethany to watch her,” Jeff said. “Or I’ll board her. It’ll be okay.”

Kent sat next to him, stroking a hand across Kevin’s head. “She’s sweet,” he said.

“Like me,” said Jeff. He grinned.

Kent rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Is it okay for her to live in an apartment, though? I mean, like. Shouldn’t you have a yard, or something?”

“Apparently it’s fine, ‘cause they don’t need a lot of exercise,” Jeff said. “She’s a rescue. I guess she was a racing dog before? And now all she needs is love, right, girl?” He scratched behind one of Kevin’s ears.

“That’s nice of you,” said Kent, “getting a rescue instead of buying a puppy.”

Jeff smiled down at Kevin. “She deserves it,” he said. “I don’t think being a racing dog is a great life. They said she needed a lot of TLC when she came in, so --”

“So you’re perfect for her.” Kent’s voice was soft.

Jeff swallowed. Why did his throat feel so tight? “I don’t know about that,” he said. “I’m gonna try, though.”

“I can’t believe you’re replacing me with a dog,” Kent said.

Jeff rolled his eyes.


	17. i think it's fly when you stop by for the summer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2011, summer

The mountains were beautiful. Jeff loved going home in the summer -- Christopher and Bethany always visited with the kids for at least a month, and even though he’d gone back to Vegas early with them last year, Jeff had a feeling that staying out in the mountains and visiting Calgary would be good for him. Hell, any escape to a different place would be good for him. And, after a rough playoff season that ended with their elimination in the second series, it seemed like Kent could use a break. New York and his mother’s new family never sounded very relaxing, and Jeff remembered how lonely Kent had seemed last summer. 

He would love it in Alberta. The mountains were like medicine. Jeff knew his parents wouldn’t mind his bringing someone home to visit, and Christopher and Bethany would be thrilled to have extra hands with the kids. Kent would likely get stuck in Jeff’s room with him, but that was fine. They roomed together all the time on roadies, so it wouldn’t matter.

“Come to the mountains with us,” Jeff said. They were eating dinner before heading out to the NHL awards.

Kent looked up from his stir fry. “What?”

“This summer,” said Jeff. “Come visit. You’ll like it, I promise.” He took a large bite of his own food. “Chris and Bethany’ll bring the kids and my parents won’t mind, it’ll be great. You’ll love Calgary. I’ll take you to the Stampede. It’ll be fun.”

It took a bit more convincing than that, but eventually Kent agreed to come to Canada after seeing his mom in New York. His mother was pregnant with a new baby, anyway, and he didn’t want to be underfoot. Things sounded strained, in Jeff’s opinion, but he knew it wasn’t really his business.

His business mostly involved making Kent smile. 

Jeff resolved to take Kent hiking and out to the rodeo and the dinosaur museum, the kind of fun, innocent things a guy ought to be doing during a summer off. They worked it out so that Kent would visit his mother in New York before coming to Calgary at the beginning of July, where he’d stay for a month and a half. When Jeff asked his parents if they minded, their response was enthusiastic. Apparently, Christopher had mentioned Kent to them, too.

He picked Kent up at the airport by himself, ignoring the curious stares of people who recognized him. Kent waved as soon as he saw him, a smile breaking across his face.

“Hey, man,” Jeff said. Kent’s flight had come in early. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” They headed for the car. 

“How d’you feel about pancakes?” Jeff asked, putting on his seatbelt. “Because we’re about to eat  _ so many _ fuckin’ pancakes.”

“It’s a sin to turn down breakfast food,” Kent said. He glanced at the radio. “What  _ is _ this?”

“Nope,” said Jeff, “shut it. My car, my music.” He paused. “You know it’s Rush.”

Kent groaned. 

After he’d fed Kent and shown him some of the city, Jeff took them home to drop off his stuff. As he’d suspected, his parents expected Kent to stay in Jeff’s room -- Christopher and Bethany and the kids all stayed with them when they visited in the summer, which meant that their guest rooms were full. Jeff took Kent down the hallway to his room, apologizing.

“It’s fine,” Kent said. “Seriously. I don’t care.” He dropped his bag on the floor.

“I can get an air mattress or something,” Jeff said. They’d slept in the same bed often enough that he hadn’t thought about it until he saw Kent’s measuring glance at the single queen sized bed in the room.

“Why,” Kent asked, “you worried I’ll cuddle you?”

Jeff laughed. Worried? Not at all. “You should be so lucky,” he said.

“Your cohort of women would kill me,” said Kent.

“Whatever,” said Jeff. He didn’t have a  _ cohort _ of women. And if he had, he wouldn’t care about them, anyway.

When they went back downstairs, Jeff’s mother met them in the kitchen. “You boys going to the opening ceremony?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “Where’s Chris?”

“Julianna’s sick,” she said. “I don’t think they’ll go with you tonight. But you go and have fun --” she smiled at Kent, who smiled back. “Both of you.”

“Thank you for having me, ma’am,” he said.

Jeff leaned over, kissing his mother on the cheek. “We’ll be back later.”

“Your mom is so nice,” Kent said, as they walked out to get back in Jeff’s car.

“Yeah, she’s cool,” Jeff said. He turned the key in the ignition. 

“Where are we going?”

“We’ll get there in time for the dancing exhibition,” Jeff said. “My cousin’s dancing this year, so we gotta go. And then there’s a tipi raising contest, so I thought we’d go to that.” He glanced at Kent. “I’m assuming you don’t wanna stay out drinking all night, so… I thought we’d do other stuff.”

He felt warm seeing the small smile on Kent’s face.

It was crazy at the Stampede. They were there pretty early, but it was still full of people. Kent and Jeff blended right into the crowd, right up until the moment they walked into the Indian Village and Jeff caught sight of his cousin.

“Hey! Jonas!”

Jeff found himself quickly saying hi to a bunch of people he knew, being invited to come drum with old friends, and just generally losing sight of Kent pretty quickly. It was easy to do.

They spent most of their first night out in the Indian Village, looking at the tipis and wandering around. Jeff tried to encourage Kent to ask questions if he had any, and he had fun introducing him to various people he knew. By the time they went back to Jeff’s parents house, Kent was yawning -- he’d gotten up early for that flight. 

Jeff knew Kent was tired when he didn’t dream. 

The next day, Jeff figured that taking Kent to see as much cowboy bullshit as possible would be the most fun and typical way to pass time. There were only about a  _ million  _ things to do, so they started with agriculture and went from there. For some reason, Kent seemed to really like listening to people talk about what they did, and he  _ definitely _ liked petting animals. His eyes went all soft as he stroked a horse’s nose, and Jeff smiled.

Asking him to come was a great idea. He’d have to remember to take Kent to the dog bowl.

After walking through vendor halls and looking at things for sale, Jeff was too hungry to do anything other than eat. They strolled around the midway, finding plenty of things to eat -- and drink. Kent surprised Jeff by actually drinking with him, and when they sat down to watch chuckwagon racing, he sat closer than usual. Jeff expected a fun, boisterous time, but he hadn’t counted on Kent being so upset by a wreck. They left after Kent’s third question in regards to whether or not the horses would be okay.

Maybe Jeff needed to alternate Stampede with something gentler.

He knew just the thing. A day trip to Banff would be beautiful. They could get up early to get in the car and make the drive over to the Banff from Calgary -- it took about an hour and a half, but the country was pretty and Jeff wouldn’t mind driving.

“Hey,” he said, as they walked up to the house that night, “you wanna skip Stampede tomorrow and go hiking? Stoney-Nakoda day isn’t until Tuesday, so it’s no big deal.”

Kent’s surprised expression brought a chill of regret to Jeff’s stomach. Of  _ course _ he’d want to go hiking, away from all the people. “Yeah,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe Jeff was asking him to go somewhere quiet. “That’d be awesome.”

“Cool,” said Jeff. And then, “you know we’re not just gonna always party here, right? The Stampede’s just a big thing.”

“It’s fine,” Kent said.

His nightmare woke Jeff up halfway through the night.

In the morning, they woke up spooning and neither of them said anything. It was one bed, things happened. Right? Jeff went downstairs to make coffee before Kent had a chance to mention it.

It was an easy drive out to Banff, one Jeff had made what felt like hundreds of times. The sky was clear and they had strong coffee in hand, and Kent stared out the window, taking in the scenery.

“Pretty, huh?” Jeff said.

“It’s really beautiful here,” said Kent. 

Jeff drove them to Waterfowl Lake’s campgrounds, parking the car in the cul-de-sac for Chephren Lake hiking and putting up a sunshade in the windshield. He figured they’d do Chephren first, and then if Kent wanted something more challenging, they could do Cirque Lake.

Jeff preferred Cirque Lake, but it was nice to pick something easy to start with.

It was beautiful no matter where they looked. The hike started with crossing foot bridges over the turquoise water of the Mistaya River. Kent stopped to stare at it for a little while, enchanted with the water.

“We haven’t even gone anywhere yet,” Jeff said. He laughed and tugged on Kent’s arm. “C’mon.”

Chephren Lake was a popular trail, not difficult at all. It was heavily travelled and relatively flat, but it lead them through the lush, aromatic forest. It was the smell of summer, comforting and serene.

They crossed log bridges over little streams and muddy patches, continuing through the forest until they reached the shoreline of Chephren Lake. It was even more blue than the Mistaya River, and the view was stunning. Rugged mountains surrounded the exquisite water, and it was a view that never ceased to make something in Jeff’s heart feel clean.

“Here we are,” Jeff said. A slight breeze stirred his hair. It had been a bit of a steeper climb to get all the way up, and it was hot out. He motioned with an arm. “Chephren Lake. And that --” he pointed. “That’s Mount Chephren.”

It was worth it for the look on Kent’s face. “Oh,” he breathed, eyes wide as he took in the sight of the mountains kissing the sky.

Jeff smiled. “Yeah,” he said, fighting the urge to grab Kent’s hand. “It’s perfect.”

He wasn’t looking at the mountains.


	18. i don't wanna say that i've loved you forever but i have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summer 2011

After the Stampede was over and they'd wasted a lot of time in the city, Jeff took Kent to the Tyrell Dinosaur museum. It was a light-hearted and fun place to visit, and it gave them some road trip time to relax and talk about Kent’s visit with his mother. They had turned up to the museum on the same day as a few group trips, it seemed, but neither Kent nor Jeff really cared. They could tag along on a tour with kids or explore alone.

“That’s Kent Parson and  _ Jeff Troy _ !” An excited woman’s voice filtered into Jeff’s hearing. He smiled a little. Was she trying to whisper? It wasn’t working.

“ _ Mom _ !” hissed her son. “No! Don’t! They’re like, on vacation!”

Jeff glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a boy attempting to drag his mother away. In the hallway, he could see a group of kids obviously visiting the museum together, and several of them looked away from him immediately. 

Kent hadn’t noticed them. “Here, c’mere --” he held his phone up, angling it a little. “Say cheese!”

Jeff stuck his tongue out as Kent snapped the picture. 

“I’m so putting this on Twitter,” Kent said.

“How many selfies are we taking with dinosaurs today?” Jeff asked. They’d already taken at  _ least _ five.

“As many as humanly possible,” Kent said, as if it were obvious.

“Right,” said Jeff, watching Kent grin as he added the picture to social media.

They ran into the group of kids outside, all of them planning on digging for fossils. Jeff smiled at them -- it would be more fun to dig for fossils with kids. Kids made a lot of things more fun.

Kent signed an autograph for one child when asked, and it wasn’t long until he was answering questions and playfully chatting with the children. They were  _ swarmed _ with kids asking for autographs, and to Jeff’s surprise, most of them were asking him first instead of Kent.

It made no sense. Kent was a much bigger name than Jeff was. He’d just gotten the Captaincy, for crying out loud. He’d been amazing even in junior hockey.

One of the chaperones stopped him after a particularly excited boy had bounced in front of him for five minutes. “Thanks so much for humoring them,” she said.

“Not at all,” said Jeff.

“It just means a lot to them, and we’re all proud of you,” she said. “I have a couple students in Timbits hockey now, because of you.”

Jeff flushed. “Thank you,” he said. “They’re great.”

After the group of kids left, Jeff turned around to see Kent grinning at him. 

“Oh my God,” Kent said, “Jeff Troy!”

“Shut up,” Jeff said.

“Can I get your autograph?” Kent asked, eyes wide. “Please?”

“Come on,” Jeff said, shoving Kent’s arm and heading for the door. “Quit it.”

“Those kids  _ loved _ you, man,” Kent said, falling into step beside Jeff. “You’re their hero.”

“No, that’s the other Troy,” Jeff said. Christopher was  _ really good _ at hockey. Everyone knew that. He always had been.

“You mean a lot to them,” Kent insisted. “It’s awesome.”

“Whatever, man.” Jeff rubbed the back of his neck.

Kent compressed his lips in a thin line, but didn’t say anything else. He was soon absorbed by the dinosaurs again, taking pictures and reading all the placards out loud, trying to copy Jeff’s accent. Or, rather, whatever the hell he  _ thought _ Jeff’s accent sounded like.

It was atrocious.

At some point Kent wandered off to use the bathroom, and it took an exceedingly long time for him to come back. Feeling a bit concerned, Jeff decided to look for him. Maybe he’d gotten distracted again.

Jeff turned a corner, but he still didn’t see Kent anywhere. “Hey!” he called, “c’mon! They’re closing, soon. This isn’t funny --”

“ _ Rawr _ !” A figure leapt out from behind a large resin dinosaur, hands crooked like little claws.

Jeff let out an extremely undignified yelp, putting a hand up.

Kent erupted into peals of laughter. “Oh, man! You should’ve seen your face!”

Jeff landed a playful punch on Kent’s arm. “You’re dead, dude,” he said, and Kent took off at a light jog.

They played a very undignified game of hide and seek in the museum, spending most of their time attempting to scare each other and avoid getting caught. When they were eventually tracked down by a security guard and asked to leave, they both could barely hold in laughter until they were out the door.

The week flew by. Jeff took Kent to Peters’ for burgers and showed him the cultural center at Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo-Jump. They spent hours there, actually, where Kent read all the information slowly and refused to leave until he’d seen every inch of the place. 

At the end of July, like always, Jeff and his family got ready to head out to the all-nations powwow. He’d grown up going to it, even after his family moved off the Stoney-Nakoda reserve so that Christopher could go further with hockey. It was one of Jeff's favorite parts of the summer, always had been. They’d visit some family while they were out there, too, so that meant everyone had to pack a little bit -- including Kent.

“-- And don’t record anything while they’re dancing,” Jeff said, folding a shirt and putting it into his bag. “Okay? No pictures, no recording.”

“Okay,” Kent said. He paused. “This is a big deal, huh?”

“Kind of,” Jeff said. He zipped up his bag. “But it’s great.” He smiled at Kent. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” Kent said.

“You’re making the faceoff face,” Jeff said. “Seriously, it’s fine. Just be respectful, that’s all you have to do. You’re good at that.”

Kent laughed.

Having Kent there felt… right. Jeff tried to watch him when he thought Kent wasn’t looking, to gauge how much fun he was having. He seemed happy. The tightness that always lingered around Kent’s shoulder had relaxed out, and he was a big hit with the older ladies.

They took some time to explore the reserve before heading back to Calgary. It was beautiful and quiet, hiking up into the mountains. Kent and Jeff laid out on rocks and talked about life and Kent took pretty pictures of the scenery, posting them on social media every now and again.

The night before their flight back to Vegas, Kent laid Jeff’s bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“You okay?” Jeff was stuffing the last of his things back into his bags.

“Yeah,” Kent said. “I just kinda… don’t wanna leave. Is that weird?”

“Nah,” said Jeff. “I feel that way all the time.” He flopped down next to Kent. “Don’t worry. Mom wants you to come back any time. There’s always next summer, plus we’ll play the Flames at some point in the season, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Kent rolled over, looked Jeff in the face. “Your mom doesn’t mind if I come back?”

“You can come back whenever,” Jeff said. “But I’m gonna promise her next summer. Deal?”

Kent’s smile was warm and soft. “Deal,” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much garden-of-succulents & Tannis for regional & cultural input.
> 
> i'll make to alberta some day!


	19. you're like coming home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2012

Kent’s house was becoming Jeff’s favorite place.

At first he’d thought it was a bit stupid for Kent to get a _house_ as opposed to an apartment, but once Kent was close to finished with it, it seemed… right. It was perfect for him. The house was a decent size, with a big kitchen and high ceilings. The windows let in beautiful sunlight and all of his furniture was comfortable, arranged so that conversation was easy and the television wasn’t the most important thing in the room. His cat had plenty of room to roam and she liked sitting by the large windows, surveying the world. Kent’s little cactus and succulent collection had plenty of sunlight.

When Jeff went to Kent’s house, it felt like coming home. The sofa was big enough for them to lounge on and play videogames or watch television without feeling cramped, something Jeff had learned to appreciate once he’d gotten so tall. The bedroom upstairs was incredible -- large and airy and, once Kent was through with it, cool and quiet. Everything was soft grey or blue. It was the kind of place Jeff wanted to lie down in, close his eyes, and hear the ocean.

“What do you think?” Kent leaned on the doorway to his guest room, the last room he’d finished. It was all warm, soft lighting and natural wood furniture, clean and simple like the rest of the house.

“It’s great,” Jeff said. “I wanna sleep here.”

Kent laughed. “Well, you can if you want,” he said. “God knows I’ve fallen asleep at your place enough times in the last year.”

Year and half. "True," Jeff said. "You can't stay awake through a movie to save your life." He grinned.

"Shut up," Kent said.

Jeff ended up with a toothbrush in the bathroom and clothing in the closet. It happened slowly, not all at once -- they played videogames too late, Kent had an extra toothbrush for traveling, so Jeff left it in the bathroom for next time. They planned on meal prepping for a day and Jeff brought clothes for practice the next day, “just in case.” It was annoying to drive all the way back to his apartment late at night when there was a perfectly good, soft bed right there. The next time he came over to watch movies, Jeff brought a pair of pajamas and left them in the drawer in the guest room.

Kent didn’t seem to mind. He put soap and shampoo in the guest bathroom for Jeff, made sure there was toothpaste. And sometimes, when he had his nightmares at night, they both ended up in the guest room with the classic movie channel on. Neither of them mentioned it to anyone else, because no one needed to know.

Just like Kent didn't need to know that Jeff had memorized the freckles on his face, that the sound of his laugh made him feel all fizzy inside. Nothing good could come from that. Jeff wasn’t a stranger to dressing room talk, and he knew that just because he’d never seen Kent out with a girl didn’t mean he didn’t _go_ out with them. As long as he made sure he didn’t stare too long, everything would be fine. Nobody would think he was gay.

Not that Jeff was gay, of course. Experimenting at parties with guys in college was totally normal, and it didn't mean anything. It wasn't like he'd ever _liked_ a guy before. Hell, he'd barely ever even liked a girl. It was just Parson. And he’d eventually get over him -- maybe.

Probably.

It was hard to feel confident about that, lying next to him in the dark.


	20. under pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2012.

Jeff jerked awake as the hotel room door opened. Fuck, what time was it? He rubbed at his eyes, rolling over to look at the harsh red letters on the hotel alarm clock. Three A.M.

Sitting up on one elbow, Jeff squinted at the darkness. That had to be Kent coming back, right? As if on cue, Kent stumbled over something and swore, catching himself on the bed with one hand.

“Ah -- shit,” he murmured, clearly trying to be quiet but not really succeeding. Jeff could smell the beer on him, and he frowned.

Kent going out after the game had been unusual enough -- he knew they had to leave in the morning, and he’d been taking his first year as Captain very seriously. Jeff knew better than to question it, though, at least not after their embarrassing defeat by the Bruins that night. He had no idea where Kent had gone. But for Kent to come back so very late? After a night of _drinking_? Too weird.

Jeff swallowed. “You okay?” he asked, pitching his voice low.

“Aw, fuck,” Kent said, “I was trying not to wake you up. I’m sorry.” His voice was rough.

“It’s fine,” Jeff said, pushing himself all the way upright in the bed. “Where did you--”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kent snapped, and that sentence was immediately followed by the sound of the bathroom door closing.

Jeff flicked on the lamp by the bed, but it didn’t matter. Kent had already retreated and shut the door between them, and soon the soft sound of the shower was all Jeff could hear. He sighed.

What the hell? It was supposed to be Kent going to bed early and Jeff stumbling in late. It always was. And to be honest, Jeff had sort of planned on staying in their hotel just because Kent usually did -- he’d even downloaded a couple of episodes of _Gargoyles_ for them to watch. He'd planned to just sort of... hang out.

Kent was in the bathroom for a long, long time. So long, in fact, that Jeff got out of bed and walked over to the door. He knocked gently. “Kent? You okay?”

“‘M fine,” Kent said, his voice barely carrying through the door. It was not very convincing.

Biting his lip, Jeff took a step back before stopping again. “You’ve been in there a long time,” he said, putting his hand on the door again. When Kent didn’t say anything he tried the handle, and the relief that flooded his stomach when the door opened immediately was a bit surprising.

Kent was in the shower still, bracing himself with one hand on the wall. “It’s fine,” he said, again.

“C’mon,” said Jeff. “You gotta sleep.” He grabbed a towel. “Seriously, it’s like three-thirty in the morning.”

Pushing away from the wall, Kent turned and shut the shower off. When he pushed the door open, his eyes were red and a bit puffy. Jeff took a soft breath and handed him the towel. “Here,” he said.

“Thanks.” Kent took the towel. After a moment, he looked up at Jeff. “Sorry for waking you up so late.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jeff said.

Soon they were both back in bed, the lamp still on and the bathroom door wide open. Jeff wasn’t sure if he should ask Kent where he’d gone again or not. Wherever it was, it didn’t seem like he’d had a very good time. Jeff couldn’t remember seeing him upset like that before.

Kent laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry,” he said, after a long moment passed.

“What for?” Jeff rolled over onto his side.

“I should’ve played better tonight,” Kent said. “I let you guys down.”

Jeff frowned. What? “We’ll get ‘em next time,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. It’s one regulation loss.”

“I just --” Kent took a breath. “Do you think Christopher would’ve been a better choice for Captain?”

Jeff blinked. It was a fair, if unexpected, question. Everyone had assumed the Captaincy would go to Christopher. “No,” Jeff said. Kent worked so hard. “I think they made the right choice. You’re doing great.”

“I’m not,” Kent said. “I’m just -- the only reason it looks like I am is you.”

Frowning, Jeff shifted a little. “I don’t think --”

“You and all the guys,” Kent continued, cutting him off. “The _team_ is good. I’m lucky to be on it. And I just -- I’m sorry about tonight.”

“Where did you _go_?” Jeff asked. Where was this coming from? And how much had Kent had to drink?

“It doesn’t matter,” Kent said. “None of it does. I shouldn’t have missed that shot tonight.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Jeff said. Kent couldn’t seriously be blaming their loss on his _one_ shot that hit the pipe, could he? That was absurd. “Seriously. We’ll win next time. You can’t make every shot, that’s --”

“I could’ve made that one.” Kent rubbed his face with both hands. “At least it wouldn’t’ve been a _fucking_ shutout.”

Jeff had no idea what to say. “I -- did someone say something to you?”

After a moment, Kent pulled in a ragged breath. “I have to be better.”

 _Be better?_ Fuck. Kent was already a whole bunch of bests in the Aces record book. “Look, man --”

“Forget it,” Kent said. “I’m just tired. ‘Night, Jeff.”

“Good night,” Jeff said, even though it wasn’t.

Kent leaned over and shut the light off.

Later, when he checked social media after they got off their flight, Jeff found pictures of Kent at a party at Samwell University.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Like, the last time Parson dropped by -- yeah it was after he'd won a _fucking Stanley Cup_ , but it wasn't like he had his _Calder_ under his arm. Parson's a modest bro. And the way Jack acted... **brah**. It freaked me out! It was kinda like how Jack used to treat _**you**_."


	21. baby, i'll bleed you dry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2013

“You wanna get out of here?” she asked, leaning closer. Her perfume was too sweet, like candied flowers. She was pretty, all curly blonde hair, big hips, and big green eyes, and she’d been eyeing Jeff all night.

“Sure,” Jeff said, because why not?

He tossed back the last of his drink, paid his tab, let her wind her hands around his bicep. She chattered idly about hockey as they got into the cab, headed for the hotel. Jeff was only half listening until she slid her hand along his inner thigh. 

It was always the same -- pretty girl, passable sex, never missionary. Jeff preferred to fuck them from behind, and no one had ever complained. He made sure the girl always got off, because that was the polite thing to do, but they never stayed the night. He never gave or got a phone number, and he never, ever saw them again. 

Hell, even if he had, he probably wouldn’t have recognized a one of them.

Jeff was, at least, honest about it. He never told any of the women he was looking for more than sex, and he made sure he didn’t leave with them if they implied they were. Casual sex, that’s all it was. Casual, athletic sex. He always used protection and usually, he picked a woman who’d been staring at him first -- he had to. He was never staring first, and it wasn’t hard. Women loved tall men, everyone knew that. And Jeff was very, very tall.

It was fine. It just wasn’t… exciting. It was fun enough, he supposed, but he didn’t miss it if it didn’t happen. When Jeff went home for the summer, he never slept with anyone. And most of the time, recently, he hadn’t been meeting girls in Vegas, either.

And he didn’t even care. It was only on the road, when they went out to bars after games or he wanted to let off some steam. It seemed normal. Shit, according to almost every guy in the locker room, it  _ was _ normal. He tried not to think about it too much, especially not on nights when he made it back to the hotel room before Kent had managed to find an elsewhere to be.

It was a relief to find the room empty when he unlocked it with his keycard. There wasn’t a sign of Kent anywhere other than his bag, neat and tidy on the second bed. He was probably with Christopher.

By the time he’d turned around, the woman -- what was her name, again? Ashley? Probably. -- was already pushing at him, sitting him down so she could straddle his lap. He had her dress half off by the time she nipped at his ear, asked how he wanted it. It was easy to flip her over and grip her hips, and when she demanded he fuck her harder, he fisted a hand in her thick blonde hair. She was loud.

Kent didn’t come back, even after she was gone. 


	22. there ain’t nothin’ sweeter than naked emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2013, summer

Kent lounged next to Jeff, leaning on both elbows, close but not touching. He let out a long, soft sigh, tilting his head back. The night was cool, a breeze blowing through the trees and stirring their hair. They were laid back on the grass together, shoulders touching.

Jeff handed him the pipe. “Is this our thing, now?” he asked.

Kent laughed before taking a hit, closing his eyes for a second. “What,” he said, after a moment, “coming to Canada over the summer or getting high?”

Laughing, Jeff took the pipe back. “Both, I guess,” he said. “At the same time.” Neither of them smoked during the season.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Kent turned to look at Jeff, eyes soft in the glow from the fire. “It’s a pretty chill thing.” He took the pipe back.

They’d had a stressful season. A stressful season combined with not winning the goddamned Cup had put every player on the Aces on edge, and Jeff was honestly glad it was over. Kent blamed himself  _ personally _ for their loss to a mind-blowing degree, and Jeff hated it. 

He was a little more relaxed now that they’d been home for a two weeks -- but only a little. That tightness in his shoulders, around the eyes, that wasn’t gone. Kent still had that pensive, quiet expression on his face, and he was dreaming more.

It was a good thing they shared a bed at Jeff’s parents’ house. Jeff was a pretty light sleeper, and he’d managed to catch Kent before he woke the whole house up with that screaming. He’d made plans for Banff the very next day. Mountain air and camping and smoking a bowl would do Kent a lot of good, he was sure of it. 

Kent agreed as soon as Jeff suggested it, his eyes sparkling a little. Jeff made sure to drag his camping stuff out of the closet and pack the truck that night, leaving everything ready for them to get going in the morning. Kent was quiet in the passenger’s seat until Jeff started singing along to  _ More Than a Feeling _ .

He managed to get Kent singing by the time they’d arrived at their destination.

After hiking around they set up their camp for the night, both of them tired and quiet. It was the most comfortable, companionable silence Jeff remembered having with someone he wasn’t related to.

It was perfect.

He’d been careful to steer their conversation topics away from their season during the day -- but at night, there was no getting around it. He was sure Kent was thinking about it, anyway. As they relaxed under the sky, Jeff accepted the pipe when Kent offered it, moving to reload the bowl. “Hey,” he said, while his hands were busy.

Kent sat up off his elbows. “What?”

“It’s not your fault we lost.” Jeff held out the pipe. “And don’t give me some bullshit about how you know that. You always think it’s because of you.”

Kent took a hit before answering. “It was my fault a lot in Juniors,” he admitted. “I know it’s stupid.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Sorry, man. I’ll get over it.”

Jeff frowned. “That’s -- no it wasn’t, bro, c’mon. You still played on a  _ team _ . It was just as much their fault as it was yours.”

“Nah,” Kent said, “it wasn’t. I was a shitty player.” 

“Dude, you went first in the draft,” said Jeff. “Shut up.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” Kent laughed. “God, you’re such an after school special, man, seriously. What’s next? You gonna feed me some lines about like, loving myself or some shit?”

“Shut up!”

Kent was laughing again, the warm, bubbly laugh that meant he was truly amused. Jeff smiled, bumping Kent’s shoulder with his. “You’re such a dick,” he said.

“You are,” Kent said, and he reached out to ruffle Jeff’s hair.

His shoulder was warm where Kent leaned against it, and Jeff closed his eyes for a moment, letting his bones sink closer to the ground. He loved the mountains, loved the feel of the air and how  _ clean _ it was up there, how wild. “I’m really glad you came,” he said, after a moment of quiet went by.

“Thank you for asking me,” Kent said. He held the pipe out. “I -- I think I needed this more than I realized.”

“You have been really  _ fucking  _ stressed out, man,” Jeff said. He lit the pipe again.

“Yeah, I... have nothing to say about that,” Kent said. He curled closer, eyes closing. 

Jeff set the pipe aside. They both seemed to be doing pretty good, anyway. He wound an arm around Kent. “Good?”

“Yeah.” Kent tucked his face down against Jeff’s shoulder. “Sorry I’m like this,” he said, after a long moment of silence.

“Like what?” 

Kent sounded so resigned. “Just… me.”

Jeff didn’t know what to say. “I -- I like the way you are,” he said, finally. When Kent didn’t reply he shifted, craning his neck to look down at him.

He was asleep.


	23. i live with it every day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fall 2013

Jeff headed up the stairs at Kent’s house, taking them two at a time. He was a bit early, he knew, but that was fine -- Kent never cared, anyway, and Jeff wanted to see if they had time to eat dinner before going out. Kent’s invitations to go dancing were too infrequent to turn down, and besides, Jeff had been practicing. He was actually  _ decent _ at bachata, now.

Kent’s door wasn’t open. It was cracked, just a bit, and Jeff had his hand up to knock before he realized that Kent was talking. Pulling back a little, Jeff waited in the hallway.

“All right, all right. I know a bunch of you have been asking me questions forever, so I figured I could do you a solid and actually answer a couple of them for once…”

What was he doing? It sounded like he was doing some kind of question and answer thing, and as Jeff paused by the doorway, he couldn’t help but listen. Kent was reading questions off a list, from the sound of it, talking about the kind of music he liked to play and how long he’d been learning the guitar.

Jeff smiled. Kent did love to play guitar. He never wanted to play  _ with _ anyone, nor did he want to play in  _ front _ of anybody, but he loved to play. Jeff had heard him playing on roadies often enough to know that it was something Kent loved doing. He was pretty good, too -- he practiced a lot and usually, if Jeff waited for a song to be over before he interrupted him, Kent seemed happier once he was done. 

The questions were completely random. They asked about his favorite cereal, favorite color. Jeff bit back a laugh when Kent answered one about his cat. That person was lucky they hadn’t gotten a three-hour lecture on how wonderful Kit was. There were questions about his age and whether or not he was a natural blond and who his favorite pop star was. Nothing on the list was news to Jeff at all, not until --   
  


“Do I like guys?” A pause. “Yeah.” Kent cleared his throat and moved on to the next question, but Jeff couldn’t really focus on anything else he was saying.

_ Yeah.  _

Kent liked guys.

Jeff let his hand drop down by his side, feeling like he’d just been checked into the boards.  _ Fuck _ . Kent was  _ gay _ ? Did that mean Kent was gay? It sounded like it did, but -- well, he couldn’t exactly ask, could he? Turning, Jeff pressed his back to the wall, looking up at Kent’s ceiling.

Fuck, that explained so much. It explained  _ everything _ , honestly, from the fact that Jeff never saw Kent out with girls to his love of pop music and musicals to his perfect skincare routine and amazing suits. It explained why Kent shied away from Bethany every time she’d ever tried to set him up on a date with someone.

It meant Jeff had a chance. Didn’t it? Fuck, it could mean that. And if it did, then… then what was Jeff supposed to do? He didn’t know how to -- how to  _ be _ with somebody. He was good at picking people up, at casual sex, stuff like that. But this?

Love?

How could he possibly tell Kent how he felt? He wasn’t even -- Jeff didn’t even think he was gay. Was he? It hadn’t seemed important, before. It didn’t matter if Jeff was gay if the only person he wanted wasn’t. 

After a moment, Jeff realized Kent wasn’t talking any more. He pushed away from the wall, retreating to the top of the stairs. When Kent’s door opened, Jeff was coming back down the hall toward the bedroom. 

Later, when they were taking a break for a drink at the club, Kent bumped Jeff with his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, “you’ve been practicing, huh? You’re looking good out there.”

Jeff laughed and tossed back the last of his drink. “Yeah? I had a good teacher.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Kent drained his glass as well.

“How about trying it again?” Jeff asked.

Kent set his glass down. “Okay,” he said, looking out at the dancefloor. He glanced back at Jeff. “C’mon -- I love this song!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes -- Kent is recording that first Q&A video Bitty watched in the beginning chapters of HH.


	24. i wanna be the only one you run to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fall 2014

Kent was playing fucking _Monica_ . Kent was playing Monica in their shared hotel room, and Jeff could not take another second of it. This was the _longest_ roadie of his **life** . Couldn’t Kent play rock music just _once_ in his life? And did Jeff _have_ to leave every time Kent wanted to practice? He hadn’t planned on going out that night.

After grabbing some ice, Jeff shoved the hotel room door open and stepped in.  
  
“Man, can you please play something that rocks?” he stopped by the bed, looking down at Kent, who glanced up at him. What was he playing?

Holy shit. Was that _Angel of Mine_? God, he would.

“Dude,” Jeff said, after a moment. “ _Monica_ ? For real?” No way. Not today. “Gimme that --” he reached for the guitar.  
“Oh my god, Jeff. What the hell?” Kent leaned back, pulling the guitar away as Jeff reached for it. “Get off -- No --”  
But Jeff was stronger, even though they were just playing, and Kent had yet to win a single wrestling match against him.

Well. Jeff _let_ him win a few times. Those didn’t count. And this? Not one of those times.

  
Holding the guitar, Jeff perched on the end of Kent’s bed. “Just a little bit, man. You should’ve told me you were bringing this, I could’ve brought mine --” He started playing _Stairway to Heaven_ . “We can jam, you know?” It’d be fun. A bonding experience.  
Kent groaned. “ _Stairway_? For real? I’m --” his phone started ringing.

  
Jeff stopped playing and picked up the phone. Staring down at the caller ID, he saw… _Eric._ Followed by a string of cute emojis. “Looks like, uh.. Eric Peach Sparkle Heart Cake Emoji is calling you?” Looking up at Kent’s face, Jeff tilted the phone, watching as Kent smiled the warmest, sweetest smile to grace his face in a long, long time.

It made Jeff’s stomach hurt.

 _Get it together._ Jeff cleared his throat and elbowed Kent. “Man. Do we need to ta--”  
“Gimme that!” Kent grabbed for his phone. He reached for his computer, snapping it shut as he answered the call with a soft “hey, you.” Glancing at Jeff, he smiled just a little before leaving the guitar on the bed and stepping into the hallway, letting the door close behind him.

Fuck. Jeff looked down at his hands.

 _Eric_.

What was that heavy feeling in his chest? Jeff took a breath.

 _Eric peach sparkle heart cake emoji_. Jeff was just in Kent’s phone as “Swoops”.

Kent had been spending a lot more time on the phone, lately, now that Jeff thought about it. He was certainly texting much more than usual, and the soft smiles he gave his phone screen hadn’t escaped Jeff’s notice. He just hadn’t really considered the idea that it might be… well, it might be a boyfriend.

He swallowed. No doubt Kent would come back with that apprehensive look on his face, wondering what Jeff was thinking about the caller ID. Since he hadn’t discussed this Eric person with Jeff before, he obviously… didn’t want to talk about it. Him.

Whatever.

Jeff went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. Leaning on the counter with both hands, he took a breath. Honestly, it was a miracle that something like this hadn’t already happened. Kent was amazing, anyone could see that. He wouldn’t stay single forever, and it wasn’t like Jeff had -- well, it wasn’t like Jeff had made any moves.

Hell, he’d come back with a girl on their last away game. There was nothing to say. Kent hadn’t talked to Jeff about his sexuality, hadn’t admitted to being gay, and it wasn’t something Jeff could just… ask about. They were so close that he’d sort of figured that Kent would tell him? Some time? And when he did, then maybe Jeff could say something, and it wouldn’t be weird, because --

“Damnit,” Jeff hissed. He was so _fucking_ stupid.

He dried his face and left the bathroom, throwing himself onto the bed. It was easy to find a channel with cartoons playing and zone out, drinking a soda and trying to think about something, anything, else. When Kent returned to the room, poking his head through the door with that soft, wary look on his face, Jeff didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Kent said, closing the door.

“Hey, man.” Jeff took a drink of his soda. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Kent sat on his bed, glancing at the television. “Johnny Quest?”

“I know, right? I didn’t think they had it on television any more.” Jeff laughed.

Kent’s shoulders relaxed a little.

After brushing his teeth and taking a shower, Kent settled into bed, rolling over onto his side with his back to Jeff. “Turn the lights off before you go to sleep,” he murmured.

“Sure.” Jeff flicked on a lamp and got up to turn off the rest of the lights. It looked like they weren’t going to talk about it, after all.

It was only the next morning that Jeff realized that Kent didn’t dream, that he hadn’t been dreaming nearly as much for quite a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes with HH no.10


	25. we tried to comfort ourselves when the nights were long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> december 2014

Kent was off his game. Not much, not enough to matter, but enough that Jeff noticed. When they left the ice after practice, heading into the showers, Jeff trailed behind Kent, waiting. 

Kent took his duty as Captain very seriously. He always stayed until everyone left. Jeff waited around, heading for the shower last after joking around with several of the guys. When he emerged again, Kent was slowly putting his shoes on.

Almost everyone was gone, and it was getting late. 

“Hey, man.” Jeff sat down next to Kent as De los Santos stepped out of the dressing room. 

Kent glanced at him. “Hey.” His gaze flicked to the clock on the wall, then back to Jeff. “You need something?”

“Do you?”

“No,” Kent said.

Yeah. Right. Jeff just stared at him, and Kent sighed.

They were just back from an East Coast game, now that Jeff thought about it. He’d been subdued on the flight home, pensive and withdrawn, not even taking half of Jeff’s granola bar. And the way Kent’s shoulders seemed to sort of… sink… reminded him of that night back in 2012. “Dude, is this like that time two years ago when you disappeared after a game and came back super wasted?”

“It’s not like that,” Kent said. When Jeff continued staring, raising one eyebrow, he sighed. “Okay, it’s a little bit like that.”

Jeff leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. A little bit like that, huh? “I’m guessing you don’t wanna talk about it?”

Kent swallowed, and when Jeff looked back at him, he was rubbing his face with both hands. “I’m --  _ fuck _ , I’m bringing it onto the ice, aren’t I?”

“A little bit,” Jeff admitted. “Not enough to mess things up, not yet. But I’m, um. I’m worried about you?”

“I’m gonna be fine,” Kent said. “I will. I’ll, you know. I’m gonna get over it.”

_ I’m gonna get over it _ was as close as Kent seemed to come to admitting that he was hurt. Rubbing Kent’s shoulder, Jeff sighed. “Yeah, man. I’m sure you will.” How bad did it have to be for Kent to admit it? Fuck.

But Jeff was willing to bet that macaroni and cheese and  _ Ever After _ would help. It wouldn’t fix anything, but it might make Kent feel better. “You wanna come over to mine tonight?” he asked. “Kevin misses you.”

Kent let out a tiny little laugh. “Yeah, why not?”

“Okay,” Jeff said.

By the time Kent walked through Jeff’s front door, he already had the macaroni and cheese halfway made. He’d picked out a bunch of random movies that he knew Kent liked, and Kevin was wearing the navy blue sweater Kent had gotten her. Jeff had draped Kent’s favorite soft, fluffy Aces blanket over the corner of the sofa, too. Everything would be comfortable, that was the plan.

Kent’s soft little smile made it worth it. He leaned in Jeff’s kitchen doorway in that old North Stars hoodie, which was probably Jeff’s least favorite thing to see him wear. It was a sad hoodie.

“I’m putting hot dogs in yours,” he said, handing Kent a bowl of macaroni. “It’s disgusting, but I’m doing it.”

“It’s not disgusting,” Kent said.

“Dude, I don’t even know what these are made of!”

“Meat,” said Kent.

“Gross.”

Halfway through the movie, when Kent leaned against him a little, Jeff squeezed his shoulders. Kent hadn’t checked his phone at all, which was… out of character for him, considering the last few months. On screen, Drew Barrymore stepped into the ball. “Just breathe,” she said.

Kent let out a shivering sort of breath, scrubbing a hand across his face. Kevin took the opportunity to lick him and he hugged her close. “Hi sweet girl,” he said. 

“She loves you,” said Jeff.  _ So do I _ .

“She doesn’t know any better,” Kent said. He gently stroked a hand over one of Kevin’s ears.

“She knows everything,” Jeff said. “All the secrets of the universe. Thought you knew that.”

Kent laughed. “Teach me your ways, Kevin,” he said.

Jeff squeezed Kent’s shoulder again. “Hey,” he said.

“Is for horses,” said Kent. “Isn’t that what you always say?”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah, it is. For real, though. Talk to me?”

Kent sighed. “There’s nothing to say, Jeff.” Rubbing Kevin’s ear, he shrugged one shoulder. “I made some bad decisions. Personally, I mean, not hockey ones, and it -- consequences. You know?”

Eric. It had to be. Right? Whoever Eric was, given how many emojis Kent had next to his name in his phone, Jeff assumed that he was… important. 

But they’d never talked about him, not ever. Jeff saw his name on Kent’s phone  _ one time _ , and Kent had dodged questions about it so much that Jeff had given up asking. He couldn’t ask  **now** . He didn’t have a leg to stand on, anyway -- Kent wasn’t the only one with secrets. “Okay,” said Jeff, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Thanks for asking,” Kent said. “Sorry I’m… like this, I guess.”

“You’re fine how you are,” Jeff said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Later, when Jeff woke up with Kevin across his legs and Kent’s head on his chest, he realized that they’d all fallen asleep in a giant pile. He had a cramp in his arm, but he didn’t want to move. Kevin and Kent looked so comfortable. Snagging his phone with his free hand, Jeff checked the time: four in the morning.

He really ought to get up and go to bed. He’d regret sleeping on the sofa like that, it always hurt his neck like crazy the next day. It would make practice harder than it needed to be.

Still, looking back down at Kent’s gentle, sleeping face, Jeff realized he didn’t want to move. He dropped his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes.

Five more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is, of course, right after the epikegster.


	26. down the line i'm screaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> january 2015

His phone was ringing. Jeff pushed the button to accept and held the phone to his ear, waiting.

“Swoops?” Kent was clearly still at Bad Bob Zimmermann’s ceremony, Jeff could hear it in the background. He’d honestly been a mess lately, and it wasn’t just hockey. He’d been quiet and even more private than normal.

“Yeah, man,” Jeff said. “What’s up?” He had a game to start in a few minutes.

“I messed up,” Kent said, his words coming out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to, it just -- you weren’t watching the ceremony, were you?”

“You know I don’t watch TV before a game,” said Jeff. He frowned. “What’d you do?”

“I think I -- I mean, I -- it just came out, I didn’t mean to say it, I just --”

God, Kent was a mess. “Parse.”

“I told a reporter I don’t have a boyfriend.” Kent’s voice was very small.

Jeff’s frown deepened. “But you do have a boyfriend,” he said, and then his eyes widened. _Oh_. Fuck.

“I -- no, I -- I don’t,” Kent said. “That’s -- how did you --”

“Eric sparkle heart peach emoji or whatever? That guy you’ve been texting for months?” Jeff leaned against the wall. The guy Kent was in love with? That was his boyfriend. Wasn’t it? “C’mon, man. I thought, y’know. I thought you’ve had a boyfriend for a while now. Did something happen?”

“You _knew_?”

“Dude, I know what love looks like,” Jeff said. He glanced to the side, where Christopher was waving at him. He needed to go.

The only sound that came through the line was Kent’s breathing, just a bit ragged.

“Look, Kent, I --”  _Fuck_. He wanted to stay on the phone and say fuck the game, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kent said. “He never was, I guess.”

Goddamnit. “Are you okay?”

Another pause. And then, “no.”

“When are you coming home?” Jeff looked at the clock. “Dude, I gotta go. When are you --”

“As soon as I can get out of here,” Kent said. “I’m not staying to be interviewed after. The front office is going to kill me. I was supposed to tell the team first, we had a plan, and now -- god, I’m gonna be in so much trouble.”

“I’ll see you when you get home,” Jeff said.

Kent swallowed. “Yeah,” he said, “okay. Thanks, man.”

Jeff got to Kent’s house first. He was just starting to fall asleep on the sofa when he heard to garage door open. Kit jumped off his lap, heading for the door. Jeff followed, leaning in the doorway to wait.

Kent came in, still wearing his suit. He looked perfect.

“Hey,” Jeff said. He was in pajamas.

“You’re still up?”

“I said I’d see you when you got home.” Jeff sighed. “You look like shit.”

Kent went through to the living room, flopping down onto his sofa. When Jeff joined him, he was rubbing his face with both hands, shoulders hunched.

Jeff sat down next to him, slinging his arm across the back of the sofa. It was the closest he could come to wrapping Kent in his arms and never letting go.

“I was gonna tell you,” Kent said.

“Dude,” said Jeff, “c’mon. Don’t. It’s fine.” After all, Jeff was the king of not revealing important personal information -- wasn’t he?

Kent shook his head.

“Does your mom know?” Jeff asked.

“She does now,” said Kent.

Well, fuck. Jeff let his arm fall from the back of the sofa to Kent’s shoulders. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said, and Kent relaxed against him after a moment. He always did. “Go get ready for bed. I’m too tired for some kind of deep conversation tonight, all right? We can just watch _Fast and--_ ”

Kent laughed a little, like Jeff knew he would. “I’m not watching _Fast and Furious_ with you,” he said. “Give it up.”

“See? Better already,” Jeff said. He pulled away, standing up. “I’m gonna make Kraft dinner.”

“Okay,” said Kent.

“I’m also gonna pass out on this sofa in like, twenty minutes,” Jeff said. He ruffled Kent's hair with one hand, keeping the touch gentle.

Kent’s smile was small, but it was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes with HH chapter 13.


	27. presser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late january, 2015

Watching Kent run fingers over his hair, Jeff let out a long breath. He didn’t know why he was nervous -- it was  _ Kent _ who should be nervous. Looking at him again, Jeff recognized the ragged state of Kent’s lower lip as one of his  _ I haven’t slept in two days _ tells. When he caught Kent glancing in his direction, Jeff offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile before Kent turned away to speak with their general manager.

Apparently, PR had planned a press conference for Kent anyway, because he’d been planning to come out in a much more controlled way before the ceremony, according to Sara. Jeff assumed that Kent hadn’t planned to be single at that point, assumed that was why he’d put it off originally, decided not to do it after all. 

It sucked so hard that he’d accidentally sort of… lost his mind and done it anyway at that retirement ceremony. Jeff still wasn’t sure what, exactly, had happened. Kent hadn’t really been the same since that night in December when he went to that party at Samwell.

Samwell, in Jeff’s opinion, had to be like some kind of hellmouth.

“Holy shit,” Jeff said, peering out at the crowd. He tugged at his burgundy tie. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Yeah, well, it’s  _ Parser _ ,” said Christopher. “Lemme see.” He took a look, winced. “Yikes.”

“Understatement,” muttered Jeff. 

“How many of these journalists d’you think actually cover hockey?” Christopher murmured.

“Eh,” said Saints, “I mean, a few. Isy’s out there.”

“Oh,” said Jeff, “ _ is _ she? Are you gonna --”

“Shut up,” Saints said, “whatever you were gonna say, just. Shut up. No.”

Christopher and Jeff both laughed. 

“Saints,” said Christopher, “c’mon, I --”

“We gotta get out there,” Tremblay said, interrupting their faint bit of fun.

In truth, it was an awkward presser for all of them. Kent hadn’t asked anyone to accompany him, of course, but Jeff and Christopher couldn’t imagine just letting him do the conference alone. Saints and Tremblay had tagged along, too, both wanting to be supportive. Plus, Tremblay was the Aces’ You Can Play ambassador and thought it was his duty, or something. Not a single one of them was quite ready for the immediate onslaught of questions.

“Kent, how are Aces’ fans reacting to your announcement?”

“How do you think fans from opposing --”

“Was that statement your way of coming out as the first openly gay male in the NHL?”

Fuck, they were relentless. Jeff grit his teeth, glancing at Kent.

“How are things in the locker room --”

“ _ Kent _ , does this mean there was truth to the rumors back when you were the in QMJHL?”

Kent stiffened in his seat next to Jeff.

“What does the Aces’ statement “ _ proud of all individuals who make up our team _ ” mean?”

All right, that was it. He couldn’t take it any more. Jeff leaned forward to speak into the mic. “It means we’re proud,” he said, speaking up before Kent had a chance to, “of  **all** the individuals who make up our team.” And yeah, okay, maybe his tone was a  _ little _ more ‘you imbeciles’ than necessary, but really? Really? What the fuck else would it mean?

Christopher kicked his ankle under the table while Saints tried not to laugh.

Kent cleared his throat. “First, I just want to say that the Aces organization is amazing, and I’m really lucky to play with such a great team of guys.”

Christopher and Tremblay both smiled.

“Do you have anything to say to LGBT youth that might be looking to you in this moment?” a reporter asked.

“I, um,” Kent said, losing his PR polish for a moment. “Yeah. Um. Just -- okay. Coming out is a personal choice. It's like who you want to marry or where you want to live. We don't pick our sexual orientation, but we do choose who -- and when -- we tell, or not." He paused, glanced at Jeff for a second. “It’s okay to not be ready. But I hope that with greater visibility we’ll see greater acceptance.”

Christopher’s smile was soft.

They only answered a few more questions, all of them trying to steer things toward hockey and the team whenever they could so that nobody could ask Kent super specific questions about stuff they had no business asking about. Tremblay gave a nice little speech about Hockey is for Everyone month. Saints had a few things to say about locker room inclusion and homophobia. Christopher focused on hockey and leadership, both on and off the ice. All in all, it turned out okay. 

On the way home, Kent leaned his chin in his hand, staring out Jeff’s passenger window without saying anything. He hadn’t so much as glanced at his phone -- Jeff wasn’t even sure the thing was charged. The silence was unnerving.

“Hey,” Jeff said, keeping his voice soft.

“Mmm.” Kent didn’t look away from the window.

“You okay?” Wincing, Jeff bit the inside of his cheek.  _ Stupid. _ Of course Kent wasn’t okay.

“Fine,” said Kent.

After taking a long breath, Jeff took the exit that would get them to his apartment rather than Kent’s house. It took a bit, but Kent finally turned to look at him, eyes a steely sort of grey. “Jeffrey,” he said.

“We don’t have to talk,” Jeff said, “if you don’t want to. But I’m not just dropping you off at home. And I know I’m not -- look, I’m not Eric, whoever he is, and I know you don’t wanna talk about him, but I do have movies and a craving for takeout Chinese and I’m taking you home with me.”

Kent didn’t say anything else for a long time, not until Jeff parked the Jeep and cut the engine. He was about to open his door when Kent cleared his throat.

“Um,” said Kent.

“Yeah, man?” Jeff turned to look at him.

“Can we get General Tso’s chicken?” Kent asked.

Jeff laughed. “Yeah, bud,” he said. “We can get whatever you want.” He squeezed Kent’s shoulder. “C’mon. I want out of this suit.”

“I can’t believe you wore a suit,” Kent said.

“You wore one,” Jeff pointed out.

“Well, yeah. But --”

“So I wore one,” Jeff said. “I got your back. No big deal.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “C’mon. Gotta let Kevin out.”

Kent ended up falling asleep on the sofa, snuggled up in one of Jeff’s BU hoodies, Kevin draped across his torso. Even asleep his face had that pinched look to it, that stress. Jeff carefully brushed a bit of Kent’s hair back off his face. “Hey, bud,” he said. “You wanna go to bed?”

Kent scrunched his nose a little. “Mmhm.”

Tucked in later, lights off and retainer in, Jeff was just drifting off to sleep when Kent pulled in closer, pressed his damp face to Jeff’s bare shoulder.

“Thanks,” Kent whispered.

Smiling softly, Jeff slid his arm around Kent. “Yeah, man,” he said. “Any time.”


	28. i mean nothing to you & i don't know why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> february 2015

Jeff called his mom about every two weeks. She always wanted to hear how things were doing -- things with hockey, with Christopher and Bethany’s kids, with Kent. She always asked about Kent, and in the last year or so, Jeff had gotten the feeling that she was asking for reasons other than the fact that the family liked him.

“I saw the news,” she said, as soon as she picked up. “Is everything okay?”

She meant Kent. “Yeah,” said Jeff. “Things are fine. I mean, mostly. We’re all a little on edge because it’s kind of a big deal, you know.” He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn’t see. Kent's coming out was stressful, and Jeff had tried to make him feel better, but he hadn't really recovered until he'd finally returned his boyfriend's calls.

That hurt. “It’s cool," Jeff said. "I think he’ll be happier, now.”

“I think you’ll both be happier,” she said, using the same tone she used to ask Bethany about the grandbabies. “And now when you come home for the summer, none of us will have to worry about saying the wrong thing --”

“He’s got a boyfriend, mom,” Jeff said, that sick feeling heavy in his stomach.

“Oh!” His mother laughed. “Finally! I’ve been waiting for this -- let me get your father --”

She had the wrong idea. “It’s not me, mom,” said Jeff, softly. “It’s not me.”

“Oh,” she said. And then, “Honey. Did you -- didn’t you say something?”

“No,” Jeff said. “I didn’t.” He looked down at his free hand, scrubbed it on his jeans. “I didn’t know how, mom.”

She didn’t say anything.

“It’s fine,” said Jeff, after they’d both been silent for too long. “His boyfriend’s really nice. And he makes him happy, so --”

“Does that mean he won’t visit for the summer any more?” His mother sounded so utterly disappointed. Kent had been coming to Calgary in the summer for four years now, at least.

Had everyone in his family thought that he and Kent were together? Did everyone know how Jeff felt except for the one person who really needed to know? Had his  _ whole family _ thought of Kent as one of them? He bit his lip. “Mom, I -- I don’t know.”

“Oh, Jeffrey.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry.” She paused. “I thought you were going to marry that boy.”

Jeff’s throat felt tight. 

He knew it was stupid, but he  _ had _ thought about it before. Kent seemed so happy in Alberta, it was easy to imagine a life with him up there: raising kids, growing old. Jeff had always known there would never be a future in which he could have three kids with his hair and Kent’s eyes, but daydreams just  _ happened _ , didn’t they? Swallowing, he tried to think of something, anything, to say.

“Jeffrey,” said his mom. “I’m sorry. I know you love that boy.”

“Mom,” Jeff said, hating how watery his voice sounded. He’d never told her that.

“I know,” she said. “But I -- you know, you’ll find someone. I know you will.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said.

He didn’t really believe that.

It was hard to find someone when he couldn’t stop loving Kent. He didn’t want to find someone else.


	29. let's pack it up & call it even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2015

“Why did you have coach take you off my line?” Kent asked.

Wait. Hold on just one fucking minute. “ _ Excuse _ me?” Jeff turned around.

“My line. Why?”

“I didn’t have myself taken off your line,” Jeff said. “I thought  _ you _ asked to have me taken off.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“You tell me!”

They glared at each other for a minute before Kent broke eye contact first. “Just with everything recently,” he said, speaking slowly, “I thought…”

What? Kent thought that Jeff asked to have him taken off his line because he was  **gay** ? Jesus Christ. “I’ve known you were gay for a long  _ goddamn _ time, Kent,” said Jeff, tone betraying his anger. “That has literally nothing to do with this.” He paused, raking both hands through his hair. “And that’s _ fucked up _ . I can’t believe you  _ fucking _ thought I would --”

“I’m sorry,” Kent said.

“Dude,” Jeff said, after a moment passed. His voice softened. “You’re -- you’re my  _ best friend _ . I mean, I --  _ fuck,  _ dude. I just, I wanna know what it is that I’ve done that’s made you think I’d have a problem with you being gay.” 

“Nothing,” Kent said, hunching his shoulders. “I just -- I assumed, all right? The timing matched up.”

Jeff sighed. “I never asked to be moved,” he said.

“Well -- why did you think  **I’d** ask to have you moved?” Kent stared at him.

_ Because you figured out I love you, you idiot. _ “Uh --” Jeff shook his head. Not going there. Definitely not. “I don’t know, man. I just assumed.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Kent said.

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucking clear, okay?” Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. Shit. He’d been pissed for nothing all this time. “Well, I’m sure there’s a reason,” he said. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Kent said. “I don’t know what that’d be, but sure.” 

It was true that it didn’t really make for better hockey. However, having Jeff on a different line had allowed him to gauge teammates’ reactions to the situation -- not everyone was thrilled. It was pretty easy to convince the guys to play nice, though, and once everyone had figured out that literally nothing had changed, everything seemed fine.

Other teams targeting Kent had helped sway the last few Aces. Nobody wanted someone else going after their captain.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kent said. “It’s fine. Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, ‘cause  _ that’s _ likely,” Jeff said. 

Kent rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did the Coach move Jeff to use his positive influence to help ease team stress after Kent's coming out? Maybe. Do Kent and Jeff actually know why? No.
> 
> Not yet, anyway.


	30. by demons be driven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we've got injuries, blood, and the Blackhawks' no.88 mentioned by name in this chapter. just a heads up!
> 
> spring 2015.

It was a rough game, not that the referees were calling penalties like they should’ve been. Jeff was sure that if someone else took some of the hits Kent took, there’d be way more time spent in the box. As it was, no one wanted to appear to be biased when it came to Kent, which meant that things weren’t being called -- and Kent refused to say anything, which didn’t help. 

The first period went without a single goal, and the second saw both teams take one goal each within minutes of each other. Shot after shot on the goals went by without a single point, though the Blackhawks were shooting more often. They just couldn’t get off the defensive, and Jeff was getting dirty looks from Johansson for having to come off the ice to check his blood sugar. The Aces cycled through several line changes in an attempt to change the game’s momentum. There were just two minutes left in the second period as Kent went after the puck, racing along the boards to get to it.   
  
Jeff looked down long enough to see his blood sugar on the monitor, hardly any time at all, and when he looked back up Kane was slamming straight into Kent -- and for such a small guy, it was a huge hit. Jeff was off the bench in an instant, leaning over the side to try and see what had happened. Kent was face down on the ice near the Aces’ bench, unmoving. Jeff leaned forward, trying to see him -- he was right by the stanchion. Kent still wasn’t moving, hadn’t gotten up. Jeff’s stomach felt tight. Fuck.

Kane turned to skate away and took a fist in the face from Keats, a player that, if Jeff remembered correctly, had played with Kent in Juniors. He was tall. He was tall and he was Kane’s own teammate and he was  _ pissed _ . Looking back at Kent, Jeff realized he still wasn’t moving -- and there was blood on the ice.

A lot of blood.

Jeff didn’t remember coming off the bench, but he slammed into Kane with all his body weight. 

Referees descended on the fight, struggling to break up both teams’ players amid loud rumbling from the stands. Realizing that he still didn’t know if Kent was okay, Jeff let them pull him off Kane -- fuck him, anyway. He didn’t matter. Kent was the only person that mattered.

Jeff turned, searching for him, was only inches away when Kent started seizing. It probably lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like forever -- Jeff’s throat was tight, his chest hurt, he felt like he was going to vomit. Medics shoved Jeff aside, and he didn’t even have a chance to  _ ask _ if Kent was okay before they were loading him onto a stretcher and removing him from the ice. He tried to follow but Christopher caught him, grabbing the back of his jersey.

“Jeffrey,” he said. “ _ Jeff _ . C’mon, bud. They know what they’re doing.”

There were minutes to go until intermission, and Coach Scott refused to allow Jeff back onto the ice -- which was just as well, because he was going to have to take a penalty for fighting with Kane, anyway, and he wouldn’t have had much time. Instead, Coach Scott sent Jeff back to the dressing room with a warning that he might be removed from the game entirely.

Once he got there, Jeff threw his helmet down in the dressing room, swearing. Jeff knew he needed to sit down, eat something, try to chill the  _ fuck _ out, but he just -- couldn’t. Fuck, what if Kent wouldn’t be able to play any more? What if he really wasn’t going to be okay? What if he  _ died _ ? 

“Okay, you  _ have _ to calm down.” It was Christopher, which meant the second period was over and everyone was coming back. Jeff turned to look at him just as De los Santos came through the door, throwing his helmet the same way Jeff had thrown his.

“ _ Fuck _ that fucking guy!”

“There’s one period left, boys,” Chris said. “We can still take this.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” said Jeff.

“You’re gonna get ejected from the game,” said Jeeves.

“I don’t care.”

“Well, start caring,” said Coach Scott, entering the dressing room, “or you’re not going back out.”

Going back out?  _ Going back out? _ Did he really think Jeff gave a  _ fuck _ about the game now? Fuck the fucking game!

Christopher put a hand on his shoulder. “Jeff -- they wouldn’t even let you see him right now, anyway. You know that.”

He was right, of course. He was right and Jeff knew it. After all, who was he? A friend. A teammate. He was nobody -- nobody with any right to see Kent in the hospital.

Jeff leaned his hand in his hands.  "I hate this," he said.

Christopher rubbed his back. "I know."


	31. things don't always work out that way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spring 2015

Sara sent him to run errands because she was worried he’d freak out -- Jeff was sure of it. And, okay, yeah.  _ Maybe _ he’d gone a little bit crazy on the ice. And  _ maybe _ he’d screamed at a doctor earlier. But that was no reason to --

Well, okay. It was a great reason. And Jeff did feel better having checked on both Kit and Kevin. Sara’d asked him to get some shoes, too, because apparently Kent had visitors, one of which he’d thrown up on. 

It irritated Jeff that Kent had visitors before he’d gotten to see him.

Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, Jeff pushed the hospital room door open. “Took me a minute to find some clothes to bring you, Parse, and then I had to go buy some fucking shoes?” He pulled the door to after Sara ducked out to answer her phone. Jeff lifted the bag before turning around. “I just brought you whatever I could find. But it should be fine.” Honestly, he’d just grabbed something out of his drawers at Kent’s house and headed on out.

Kent was in bed, as Jeff expected him to be, but he wasn’t alone. Jeff had not expected  _ that _ . Kent was curled around another man -- Eric. It had to be. He was… smaller than Jeff expected. He didn’t really know what Kent’s type was, he realized, because he’d never asked.   
  
“Hey,” Kent said, sitting up immediately. His voice was a little rough, and he had blood in his hair. Eric turned toward Jeff, regarding him with open curiosity.    
“Oh,” Jeff said, because he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “Eric.”   
“That’s me.” Eric held out a hand. He was slim and small and blond, with a warm voice. He was everything Jeff wasn’t.   
Trying to keep his face casual, Jeff shook Eric’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said. 

After a moment, Jeff glanced at Kent. He was holding onto Eric with a tight grip, their arms wound together. Eric brushed his thumb along the skin Kent’s forearm, rhythm gentle and soft. 

It hurt. It hurt, but -- “I’m glad you came, Eric,” Jeff said. And he was. Kent needed Eric and Eric showed up. That was everything Jeff wanted for him. 

Reaching out, he tucked fingers under Kent’s chin and turned his face to the side. That eye looked awful, bright blood red and swollen. “Hell, Parse. You look like shit,” Jeff murmured.   
“I know.” Kent pulled away and rubbed at his face. “I feel like shit. It’s f--”   
“Whatever,” Jeff said, cutting Kent off before he could say ‘fine’. He’d just keep insisting nothing was wrong with him, even if everyone around him could see the opposite. “Here. Put some clothes on. At least a shirt, yeah?” He set the backpack on the bed, quickly pulling out a Van Halen t-shirt.   
  
Kent stared at it. “I am not wearing that,” he said.   
Typical Kent Parson. “Oh, you wanna go home bare-assed, eh? I had to come in through the back so that no one would try to fuckin' interview me.” Everyone wanted to be the first with news on Kent’s condition. It was a nightmare out there, and Jeff wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. He was certain if he talked to anyone he’d say something he’d regret. “Think Sara'll like dealin' with the fallout of you walkin' out of here half-naked?”   
“Fuck you!” Kent’s tone was playful.   
Now Jeff was outright grinning. “Feeling better already, I see.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Look, fuck. Put it on. It was easier to grab my clothes.” That and, if he was honest? Jeff liked seeing Kent in his clothes. “You can change when you go home.”   
“Why didn’t you bring clothes that actually, y’know, belong to me?”   
“Too much work,” Jeff said.   
  
Once Jeff had given the new pair of shoes to Jack Zimmermann and they’d all confirmed that yes, Kent had puked on his feet, Jeff found himself glancing around the room. He didn’t know what to say. Everything felt -- weird, weird and different, with someone in Kent’s bed and the distinct feeling of distance pooling in between Jeff’s shoulders. It was a relief when Sara opened the door to check on them.

Kent, already out of the hospital gown entirely, pulled the Van Halen shirt on over his head. His St. Michael medal caught in the neck of the shirt for just a moment. “We’re just waiting on a doctor,” he said, tugging at it. “It might be a while.” He paused, then looked at Jeff again. “You brought pants, right?”   
“Yeah.” Of course. Jeff tossed Kent a pair of jeans. “So -- I’m supposed to take these two to your place to rest, or something?” Those were Sara’s instructions.  _ Go get Kent’s visitors and take them to his house to rest, it’s pretty important to him -- I’m counting on you. _ “I’m just followin’ orders. And --” Jeff paused, watching Kent as he wriggled around under the covers. “What are you doing?”   
“I’m putting on pants!” Kent huffed.   
“You know, you can just put those on like normal, what’s the big deal --”   
  
“Not in front of Sara!” Kent hissed, flushing a little.   
“She doesn’t care!” Jeff said. He laughed. Kent was ridiculous, like always. It was… confidence inspiring. Maybe he really was feeling better.   
“I’ll turn around,” Sara offered.   
Kent let out an exasperated sigh. “Fuck you. Both.” He glanced at Jack. “All. Well --” He smiled at Eric, and the heat in that smile twisted in Jeff’s stomach. “Not you.  _ Well. _ Not --”   
  
“Kent,” Jeff said. “C’mon, man.”   
Kent sighed again. “Did you --”   
“I checked on your cat after the game,” Jeff said. It had to be what he wanted to know, right? “She was fine.”   
Kent paused in his below-the-sheets wriggling. “You saw my cat and you can’t even get clothes for me? You dick!”   
“Yeah, ’cause you think clothes are more important than your cat. Is that what you’re saying? I’m gonna tell her you don’t love her any--”   
“So you forgot,” Kent said.   
“Yeah,” said Jeff, because it was easier than telling the truth, “I forgot. So sue me.”   
  
Jack was already re-packing his bag. He’d put the shoes on without another word. Eric, on the other hand, didn’t move from Kent’s bed at all. Jeff glanced at him again when Jack stood up. He was supposed to be taking both of them -- wasn’t he? “Ready?” he asked.   
“I’ve got everything,” Jack said.   
“I’m not going,” Eric said.   
“But --” Kent sat up again.   
  
“I’m not havin’ this conversation again, baby,” Eric said.

God, he called him baby. He called him baby and threaded gentle fingers through his hair and Jeff -- Jeff needed to leave.

  
Eric laid back against the pillow. “C’mon,” he said to Kent, “We’re staying here. Those boys can -- oh!” He sat back up. “Lemme get y’all a grocery list. Is that okay?”   
Jeff glanced at Kent and sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve got some time. It’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this comes, of course, right after the hit Kent took at a game in HH chapter 16.


	32. i must obey the rules i must be tame & cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fall 2015

Kent let out a loud groan, raking his hands through his hair. “Fuck!” He was sitting cross legged on the hotel bed, laptop in front of him.

“What?” Jeff looked up from his issue of the _Journal of Early Childhood Research._ “Problem?”

“I just --” Kent shoved at his laptop. “I got a C on this rough draft, fuck. There’s like, eighteen pages of corrections in here, I swear to God.”

“Oh,” Jeff said. School stuff? He was good at school stuff. It had been some years since he had to write anything for a class, but -- well, he’d been good at papers. And Kent looked so **frustrated**. “You want me to look at it?”

Kent glanced at him.

“I really don’t mind,” Jeff said.

Kent looked down at his computer. “Yeah,” he said, after a long minute, “okay. It’s not gonna get worse, anyway.”

Jeff set his journal aside and got up, stretching a little. “All right,” he said. “What class is this?”

“Uh - Comp III,” Kent said, glancing away from him.

“Okay.” Jeff sat on the edge of the bed. “Can I see?”

Kent shoved the laptop at him.

Jeff pulled it onto his lap, scanning the document. Kent’s professor was right -- it wasn’t very good. Math was clearly Kent’s strong point when it came to school. “Well,” he said, after a minute.

“It sucks,” said Kent. “Right?” He groaned and fell back against the pillows. “ _Fuck_! I can’t make an appointment with the writing center because our schedule is insane and I’m just --”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jeff said, “shut up, man. It’s not **that** bad. I’ll help you. Why didn’t you ask me before?”

Kent shrugged one shoulder.

“I would’ve helped you,” Jeff said. He paused. “What do you find hard about this?”

“Everything,” Kent said.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Don’t be petulant, Parse.” He looked over at him. Kent was draped over the pillows, as dramatic as ever. “Come on. What’s the hardest thing about writing this paper?”

It took a few minutes and a bit more urging, but eventually Kent was sitting up next to him, talking through the assignment. Between the two of them, they went over the process of writing an analytical paper.

Eventually Kent had a decent draft started. He took direction well, and while he had a little trouble organizing his thoughts, with a bit of encouragement he was doing okay. Jeff looked at the clock when he felt hungry, surprised to see that a few hours had passed. “Aw, man,” he said, “we gotta go to bed. Our flight is in like 2 hours.”

“Oh, fuck.” Kent saved the document. “You didn’t have to stay so late.”

“It’s fine,” Jeff said, standing. “I don’t mind.”

“Your degree is in teaching, isn’t it?” Kent asked.

“Yeah. Well -- early childhood education,” Jeff said, “so. I mean, not like college stuff or anything.”

“You’re good at it,” Kent said, voice soft. “Thanks.”

Jeff ruffled Kent’s hair. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

“You did good in school, huh?” Kent was still looking down at his computer.

Picking up his journal, Jeff shrugged. “I graduated _cum laude_ ,” he admitted. “It’s pretty good. I mean, not the best? But pretty good.”

Kent smiled. “Of course you did.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh -- do you mind maybe helping me, um. When I’m done with this draft again, would you look at it, maybe?”

“Yeah, man!” Jeff looked for his shoes. “Any time. C’mon. Go to bed, we gotta get up in like an hour.”

Laughing, Kent shook his head. “I’m just gonna sleep on the plane,” he said. “You can take a nap if you want. You already packed your shit?”

“Dude. C’mon.” Jeff threw himself back onto the bed. “Fine. Wake me up in an hour.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kent scooted around, putting his computer back on his lap. “One hour. ‘Night.”

Jeff smiled, reaching over to shut off the lamp. “‘Night, Parser.”


	33. i wanna wake up where you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fall 2015

Jeff woke up feeling stiff and sweaty, his mouth sour from sleep. Sitting up on one elbow, he blinked. He was at his own apartment, in his own bed, with Kevin in between his legs. A soft noise to his right caught his attention and he turned his head.

Kent was asleep in a chair, one of his textbooks propped open across his belly. He’d slumped over, head leaning against one hand, and he was wearing that t-shirt that said ‘so… i went home and cried’ on the front of it. Jeff frowned. What were they doing at his place? Clearing his throat, he reached out and nudged Kent’s knee.

Kent jerked awake all at once, his book falling to the floor. He rubbed his face with one hand. “Sh-- Jeff.” He bent to pick up the book. “Hey, buddy. You feel any better?”

Jeff blinked. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. His voice was hoarse.

“Well, you have the flu,” Kent said, as if it were obvious. “I’m helping you. You don’t remember going to the doctor, huh? Your fever was pretty intense.”

Jeff frowned. He did not remember that.

“You puked on the bus after the game,” Kent said, helpfully, “and you passed out in my living room.”

Ah. Yeah. He did remember the puking, actually. Sitting all the way up, Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. It was stiff. “Uh -- how long have you been here?” Kevin whacked her tail against the bed, staring at him.

“Since I went to get your prescription from the pharmacy,” Kent said. He checked his watch. “Oh. Hang on, just a second.”

When he returned, Kent handed Jeff water and a pill. “There,” he said. “Take it. I’ll make you some soup, okay?”

Jeff looked at the pill in Kent’s hand.

“It’s Tamiflu,” Kent said. He waited.

Taking the medicine, Jeff drained the glass of water before handing it back to Kent. “Happy now?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kent said. “I’ll be right back.” He took the glass and left again, leaving the bedroom door open.

Jeff slid out of bed, wanting to wash his face. His knees felt a little weak, and he paused in the hallway, putting a hand out against the wall. Sometimes being tall was… hard. He could hear Kent on the phone in the other room.

“Hey, you,” Kent said, his voice soft. “Yeah! No, he’s awake now. Yeah, I wanted to ask you -- you remember when I was in the hospital and you came -- yeah, I know, I know you’re not going to forget that, but --” he paused. “Eric! C’mon! I wanna know how you made the soup.” There was another pause and then soft laughter. "I love you, too."

Jeff made it to his bathroom and splashed cold water over his face, letting out a heavy breath. God, it felt like his teeth were wearing sweaters. He slowly brushed them, leaning on the counter with one hand. Kevin stood in the doorway, watching him, and he paused to scratch behind her ear.

When he left the bathroom a few minutes later, Kevin trailing after him, Kent was in the kitchen.

“What do you need?” Jeff asked.

“You to sit down,” Kent said. “Go on. I’ll get you some water.”

“I’m fine,” said Jeff. It was a lie, if he was honest -- his entire body was aching and he felt weirdly dizzy.

“Dude, you have the _actual_ flu. All those people in 1918 disagree,” Kent said. He handed Jeff a glass of water. “Go. Sit down, fuck. I got this.”

“I --”

“Jeffrey Roland Troy,” Kent said, trying to mimic Jeff’s mother’s warning tone.

“Fine, fine.” Jeff took his water and went to the sofa.

He woke back up when Kent nudged him a little. “Mm?”

“I made soup,” Kent said. “You should eat it and go back to bed.” He sat down next to Jeff on the sofa. “C’mon.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jeff said. His head hurt. Sitting up, he twisted his head to one side, cracking his neck. “Ugh. I’ll just -- I’m just gonna go to bed, yeah? I’m fucking tired.”

“You have to eat something,” Kent insisted. “Just a little bit, okay?”

“Dude, I’m --” Jeff rubbed his face. Kent wasn’t going to let up. “Fine. Fine. Give it to me.”

Kent handed him the bowl. Once Jeff started eating, Kent got up to clean the kitchen. It sounded like he was doing laundry, too, maybe?

It took Jeff a little while to get through his bowl of soup. It was delicious, but eating took energy that he just didn’t seem to have. He took the bowl to the sink and set it down, but carried the water with him to his bedroom. Pausing in the doorway, he frowned.

“What’re you doing?”

“Putting clean sheets on the bed,” Kent said. He tugged on the sheet one more time before adding a blanket. “There.”

Jeff sat on the bed. “I’ll see you later, I guess,” he said.

“Oh,” said Kent. “You don’t want me to stay?”

Jeff looked up at him. He _did_ want Kent to stay, he wanted Kent to stay and curl up in bed with him and play those ocean sounds on his phone until Jeff fell asleep, but -- but Kent had a boyfriend. Jeff needed to respect that. “I --”

A flash of hurt crossed Kent’s face and he took a step back, quickly schooling his features into a placid expression. “All right,” he said, “it’s cool. I get it. Just -- I’ll leave your medicine by your bed, okay?”

“Kent, I --”

“I gotta check on Kit, anyway.” Kent ducked out of the room and returned in a few minutes, setting a pill bottle on Jeff’s night table. “Right. I’ll see you, okay?”

Damnit. “Kent,” said Jeff.

“Yeah?” Kent paused in the doorway.

“My head hurts,” Jeff said, lying just a little. “Will you just, uh. Stay? And do that pressure thing?” Even if he didn’t have a migraine, it would make him feel better.

After hesitating for a moment, Kent smiled a soft little smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”


	34. i be on my suit & tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of 2015

Pulling on the fabric of his tie, Jeff narrowed his eyes at his reflection. Holy shit, he did it. The knot looked right. It was fancy and neat and even. It looked awesome. Didn’t it?

Hell yeah, it did. Running a hand over his hair, he grinned at the mirror. Honestly? He looked fucking  **good** . The royal blue Kiton suit fit him perfectly. He’d taken it to a tailor just like Kent usually told him to, even though he’d purchased it by himself. 

Noise from the hallway caught his attention. “Oi!” Someone banged on his door. “Are you ready yet? We’re gonna be la--”

Yanking the hotel room door open, Jeff grinned at Kent. “I’m ready,” he said. “Are  _ you _ ?”

Kent stared at him for a moment before snapping his mouth shut. He didn’t say a word. He was wearing that dark green suit of his, the one Jeff liked so much.

“What?” Jeff tugged at the hem of his jacket. Sure, it was a different look for him, but he liked it! Wasn’t Kent always saying he ought to wear nicer suits? Did it look weird?

“Uh --” Kent swallowed. “New suit?”

“Yeah.” Jeff looked down. He’d thought it was a nice color. Was it not? He frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Absolutely fucking  _ nothing _ ,” Kent breathed. He just stood there, unmoving.

After a minute, Jeff grabbed his things. “O--kay,” he said. “C’mon. We’re gonna be late. Isn’t that what you were saying?”

Kent followed him down the hall. “I was, yeah. I mean, we’re probably on time, now. When did you -- when did you get this  _ suit _ ?”

Jeff pushed the elevator button and laughed. “I don’t know, like, a month ago?”

“A month ago,” Kent repeated.

“I got it tailored like you said.” Jeff looked up at the elevator numbers. “I just got it back last week.” Looking over his shoulder, he grinned. “Stop staring!” When the elevator door opened, he stepped in.

“I’m just not used to seeing you in something like that,” Kent said, pushing the button for the ground floor before turning to face him. “You know, looking nice?” He laughed. “Did Bethany help you?”

“Rude!” said Jeff. “And no. I picked it myself, you dick. I  _ did  _ listen to you when we went shopping, you know.”

Kent stepped closer, reached out to touch the shoulder of the jacket. “It’s really nice,” he said. “For real, man. It looks great.”

Jeff grinned. “Thanks, Captain.”

Kent shot him a glare.

“It’s Kiton,” Jeff added.

Kent rubbed the fabric of one of the lapels between his fingers. “I noticed.” Glancing up at Jeff, he ran his tongue over his lower lip, hand still on Jeff’s chest. “I --”

The elevator dinged and Kent jerked away before the door opened, running a hand over his hair as he cleared his throat. The doors slid open and he stepped out first, leaving Jeff to take a deep breath in the elevator before following. 


	35. el amante

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> november 2015

“Hey, Swoops?”

“What’s up?” Jeff rubbed at his hair with a towel.

“Did I see you and Parser at La Jolla the other night?” De los Santos was eyeing him with suspicion.

“Oh --” Jeff looked up, arms halfway into his shirt. Shit, had he seen them dancing _together_? Jeff was still learning, so Kent usually danced a song or two with him every time they went out. It didn’t feel like a big deal to Jeff anymore, but he realized that it could be to someone on the team. Shit. “Uh,” he said, “yeah. Probably, I mean. Parse has been teaching me how to --”

“Since when are you going out there?” De los Santos crossed his arms over his chest. “And why didn’t you ask me if **I** wanted to go?”

Oh! He was just pissed he hadn’t been included? Thank fuck. “I didn’t think about it, man,” Jeff said, relaxing a little. He pulled his shirt over his head. “I mean, you know how Parse is --”

“I can’t believe you went there without me,” De los Santos continued. “I bet you can’t even dance.”

“Hey!” Jeff tugged his shirt down. “I’m learning! And Parse is the one who decided to go there, anyway. Maybe he just didn’t think anyone else would wanna go!”

“Bullshit!” De los Santos shot him a contemptuous look. “You better take me next time. I’m not fucking around.”

“All right, all right,” said Jeff, “fuck. I’ll tell him.” He wasn’t sure how well that would go over with Kent, but it didn’t hurt to ask. He could use a bit more team interaction anyway, beyond performance for team events or media.

Their teammates didn’t actually get that much genuine Kent Parson. There was media Kent Parson and then there was Captain Kent Parson -- both separate from the person Kent Parson was at home, where other people didn’t see him, where he knew he wouldn’t be recorded or photographed or mentioned in interviews. Jeff wasn’t sure other guys on the team really knew that, though. They had a completely different perception of Kent than he did, a lot of the time, and most of them acted like Christopher was the captain -- just not on the ice.

Two weeks later when they got home after a long roadie, Jeff met Kent at his house after practice. “Hey man, you wanna go dancing tonight?”

Kent swallowed his mouthful of chicken. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good. We haven’t been in a while!”

Jeff took a bit of sweet potato off Kent’s plate. “Cool,” he said. “Uh. Can I bring Saints with us?” He stuffed the potato into his mouth.

Kent frowned. “Why?”

Swallowing, Jeff picked up another bit of potato. “I guess he saw us there a couple weeks ago. Was pissed we didn’t ask him to come,” Jeff said. He shrugged. “It’ll be fun. He’s chill, you know that.”

“All right,” Kent said, but he didn’t sound thrilled.

“It’s not gonna be weird,” Jeff said. He ate the last of Kent’s sweet potato.

Kent picked his plate up and carried it to the sink. “I said all right, didn’t I?”

Jeff sent a quick text to Saints. _La Jolla?_

 _meet u there_ , Saints sent back.

Jeff drove to the club with Kent in the passenger’s seat of his Jeep, staring out the window. Jeff glanced at him several times before sighing. “Dude,” he said. “If you didn’t want me to tell him he could come, you should have said something.”

“I said it’s fine,” Kent said, not looking away from the window.

“Then act like it,” said Jeff.

Kent looked at him for a minute. “Sorry,” he said.

Jeff shrugged. When he pulled in to park, Kent grabbed at his arm before he could open his door. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” said Jeff.

“Don’t tell Saints I was being a dick,” Kent said. “Please?”

“I won’t.” Jeff smiled. “C’mon. We’re here to have fun.”

They found Saints just inside the club, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He obviously hadn’t been there long. “Hey, guys.”

Kent grinned. “Hey,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t think about asking if you wanted to come before!”

“I forgive you,” said Saints. “ _This_ time, bro.”

Kent laughed. They headed to the bar, chattering a little about hockey before Saints groaned. “Guys. No hockey talk in the club, all right?” He glanced at Jeff. “Well, unless you’re using it to impress a lady.”

“I’ll give you a personal pass for that,” Jeff said. “You probably need it.”

“Shut up, man --” A new song started and Saints perked up immediately. “Oh, fuck, _El Perdon_ \-- Parse!” De los Santos shoved his drink at Jeff and grabbed for Kent’s hand. “Baila conmigo!”

Kent tilted his head to finish all of his drink at once before slamming the glass down. “Why the fuck not?” he said, and before Jeff could say anything, he was gone. He looked down at the glass in his hand before glancing out at the dance floor. It took him a minute to find Kent and Saints among all the other dancers.

And, okay. Kent and De los Santos were dancing together -- _really close_ together, and they looked great doing it. Saints obviously loved that song, and Kent looked _genuinely_ happy. Jeff’s grip tightened on his glass. They were both good dancers, and Saints didn’t seem worried whatsoever about the fact that they were two guys dancing together in a public club. He certainly wasn’t worried about where his hands were. Kent was following, like he did when he danced with Jeff, but it was definitely a much… sexier version of when he danced with Jeff.

Probably because he wasn’t trying to teach Saints anything. Both of them knew what they were doing. It was, in all honesty, probably more fun that way. Jeff tossed the rest of his whiskey back quickly, swallowing against the burn.

God, it was going to be a long night.


	36. it only hurts when you cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes with HH chapter 30.
> 
> spring 2016.

Jeff’s phone was ringing. It was Kent’s ringtone -- the  _ Boy Meets World _ theme song. Jeff was standing under the hottest water his shower could provide with the head set on the hardest massaging water setting. Damnit. 

Reaching one arm out of the shower, he grabbed for his phone and leaned forward to keep it out of the shower spray as he jabbed the button to put it on speaker. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Kent took a single breath before hanging up.

Well, shit. Jeff shut the shower off and got out, grabbing for his towel as he pushed the button to call Kent back. “Pick up your phone, asshole,” he muttered, roughly drying off while the phone rang. It went to voicemail and Jeff swore, putting the phone down long enough to grab clothes and pull them on. 

He was just typing out a text to Kent when a knock at his door startled him enough that he dropped his phone. Jeff went to the door immediately, yanking it open. Kent stood on his doorstep, eyes red behind his glasses, face a bit splotchy. He was an absolute mess in his dad’s old Minnesota North Stars hoodie, hands in pockets and shoulders a little hunched.

“I’m sorry,” he started to say, “I --”

Jeff reached out, pulling Kent in through the door to hug him. It took a few seconds before Kent hugged him back, but when he did he wound his arms around Jeff’s waist with a heartbreaking sense of desperation. “It’s fine,” Jeff said, tightening his grip just a little. 

“I know it’s late, I’m sorry -- I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Kent said, as Jeff shut and locked the front door. “I just didn’t, uh. I just wanted to get out of my house for a while.”

“You know you can come here whenever, man,” Jeff said. “You didn’t even have to knock.” Kent had a key. Jeff glanced at him. “What’s wrong?”

Kent made himself busy with taking off his shoes, looking down at his feet. “Just -- just a shit night, you know?”

No. Jeff didn’t know at all. “You wanna sit down?” he asked. Sometimes it took some persistence to get things out of Kent. He’d learned that well enough their rookie year.

Jeff’s mother always made mint tea when someone wanted to talk. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but the mint seemed to make things better and the warmth of the tea made it easier to talk. Stepping into his kitchen, he flipped the switch on his electric kettle and took a large mug down from the cupboard. Dumping mint tea into it, he took a deep breath while waiting for the water to boil. Kent was just sitting on the sofa, stroking his hand over Kevin’s head.

The kettle didn’t take long. Once the mug was filled with hot water, Jeff took it out to the living room and handed it to Kent. “Here,” he said.

Kent glanced up before taking the mug, wrapping both hands around it.

Jeff sat next to him, waiting. After a few minutes passed and Kent had sipped his tea, Jeff tilted his head. Kent glanced at him.

“I’m assuming you being here has something to do with your boyfriend,” Jeff said.

Kent looked back down at his tea. “Yeah,” he said. His eyes had that puffy, I’ve-been-crying look to them.

“I’ll kill him,” Jeff said, in the most matter-of-fact way possible, and it scared him how much he meant it. 

“It’s my fault,” Kent said, ignoring Jeff’s words. “I sort of -- well, I agreed to something I didn’t really want to do.”

What? 

Was that how their relationship worked? 

Jeff frowned. “Dude,” he said, slowly, “I’m not, um. I’m not like, an expert on relationships or anything --”

Kent snorted.

Ignoring him, Jeff continued. “-- But I think, y’know. I think if someone loves you they don’t ask you to hurt yourself like this for them.” Did Eric know Kent at all?

“I didn’t say --”

“I know you, Kent, so you can cut the shit, all right?” Jeff sighed, running his hands through his hair. Fuck. “Look. I know you love him. But, you --” What could he even say? That Kent deserved better? 

He did. Kent deserved someone who wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. He deserved a relationship he felt safe and wanted in. He deserved someone who wanted to wake up with him and go to sleep with him, someone who knew his favorite foods and favorite songs and could make him laugh.

He deserved the world.

“I’m really tired.” Kent’s soft voice cut through Jeff’s thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Jeff said. “I know. You wanna lay down?”

Kent nodded.

Jeff went down the hall first. The light was still on in his room, and he bent to pick his towel up off the floor. When he turned, Kent was in the doorway, soft and exhausted.

“Lay down,” Jeff said. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t even protest. Instead, Kent set his cup on the nightstand and climbed into bed, curling up into a ball. Kevin jumped up after him, curling up in the middle of him to steal his warmth. Jeff sat on the edge of the bed, put a hand on Kent’s shoulder.

“You can stay the night, if you want,” he offered. “I can sleep out on my cou--”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kent said.

Jeff squeezed Kent’s shoulder. “All right.”

Sometimes, Kent liked to be alone. Jeff checked the cup and, finding it empty, picked it up. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Mm.” Kent was scratching Kevin’s head.

Taking the mug to the kitchen, Jeff rinsed it. This time, the ring of his doorbell didn’t surprise him.

It had to be Eric. 

Ignoring it, Jeff went to the living room and turned on the  _ Antiques Roadshow _ .

The doorbell rang again. After a few minutes, it was followed by some insistent knocking. Jeff sighed as his text message alert chimed.

_ You can’t make me stand out here all night,  _ Eric’s message said.

Jeff let out a dark laugh.  _ Wanna bet? _ he sent back. 

Ten full minutes later, Jeff opened the door, but not enough to allow Eric entrance. “What do you want?” he asked, leaning in his doorway, making sure he filled it.   
“Is Kent here?” Eric asked. He was eyeing Jeff in that sort of terrified way people usually did when they realized how much bigger Jeff was than they were.   
“I don’t know,” Jeff said, glancing down the hallway.   
  
“Jeff,” Eric said, “please. Let me talk to him.”   
What if Kent didn’t want to talk to Eric? He’d left his own house to get away from him, after all. “I don’t know that he wants to talk to you,” Jeff said.   
“Please,” said Eric.   
Jeff didn’t move. “I’m not sure I want you in my place, Eric.” 

There was a long moment of silence before Eric spoke again. “I’m not leaving. I’ll sit out here all night if I have to. I’m not leaving until I see him.”

  
Was that supposed to be some kind of threat? Jeff didn’t give a fuck if Eric sat in the hallway all night. Why should he let him in? “What happened?” he asked.   
Eric swallowed. “I… asked Kent to do something I shouldn’t have,” he said.   
Jeff frowned, waiting. That wasn’t good enough.    
A deep flush darkened Eric’s face and neck. “Something, uh, intimate,” he admitted. “With -- with someone else.”

Wait just one goddamn fucking minute. Something  _ intimate _ ? So -- their conversation in the dressing room, then, that was about a  _ threesome _ ?

What the everloving actual  _ fuck _ .

Eric asked  _ Kent _ to have a threesome with someone. Kent. Kent ‘I go to church every Sunday’ Parson. Kent romantic comedy and romance novels Parson. What in the world could possibly have given Eric the idea that Kent would ever be okay with something like that?

Oh, right. Kent did. He said he’d do something he didn’t want to do.   
  
Jeff clenched his jaw. He swallowed, turning away from Eric for a second, muttering in Stoney. “ _ I can’t believe I’m doing this _ .”   
  
Turning back to Eric, Jeff didn’t bother to lower his voice. “Do you know him at  _ all _ ?” he asked, tone harsh. “How could you --”   
“It was stupid.” Eric rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I thought it would be fun -- I thought  _ we _ would have fun. It was stupid, but to be fair, he mentioned it first. I, um. Look, it’s complicated, okay?”   
Oh, no. Jeff couldn’t take much more of this. “Stop talking,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair before pulling back, opening the door a little wider. Motioning Eric in, he pulled the door closed after them. “Sit,” he said. “In the living room.”   
  


Eric took himself to the living room and sat on Jeff’s sofa. He stared around Jeff’s apartment with a lost, faintly scared expression. Joining him in the living room, Jeff threw himself into an armchair. He looked at Eric and waited, saying nothing.   
After a moment, Eric squirmed a little. “Did he talk to you?” he asked.   
“No,” said Jeff, because Kent hadn’t. Not really. “He didn’t need to.” He leaned his cheek against his hand. “It was pretty obvious that you fucked up.”   
Clearly uncomfortable under his scrutiny, Eric twisted his hands together. “I didn’t mean to,” he said. “And I thought if he didn’t want to do… things… he’d say no, so --”   
  
“Look,” said Jeff, “I don’t know what happened, all right? I’m not gonna pretend like I do. But you -- he --” He pinched the bridge of his nose. How could Eric and Kent have been dating for over a  _ year _ and Jeff still needed to explain this? “I think whoever his ex-boyfriend was, he maybe…” Hurt him. A lot. Kent was so afraid of being himself with people, it was why he had his hockey persona, why he so carefully crafted his public face. “It’s just, Kent acts like somebody that’s been abused, okay?” He paused. “He won’t -- he’s just gonna do whatever he thinks you want him to do.”  _ And you shouldn’t have let him think he had to. _   
“Well, I -- I don’t think his ex-boyfriend hit him, if that’s what you mean,” Eric said, immediately trying justify himself. “I --”   
  
“No, fuck you,” Jeff said, anger burning in his stomach. “ _ That’s _ what you have to say for yourself?” Just, ‘I don’t think his ex-boyfriend was physically abusive’? That was it? Nothing about how Eric hadn’t bothered to actually figure out what Kent needed, how he’d just done whatever he wanted and damn the consequences? “You took advantage of him, and I know he’s not gonna say it, but I will. Seriously,  _ fuck you _ .”   
  
Eyes wide, Eric sucked in a sharp breath. He looked stricken.    
“You don’t deserve him,” Jeff continued. He didn’t care if Kent heard, not any more. “And he damn sure doesn’t deserve this.”   
“I know that.” Eric whispered. His eyes were glassy. “I didn’t know it was gonna turn out like this.”   
Yeah? He should have.

Jeff shifted in his chair. They were both quiet for a moment before Jeff broke the silence. He had to know. “Who was the other person?” he asked, voice quiet.   
“It was Jack,” Eric said, not looking up from his knees. He looked pathetic, all hunched shoulders and sick guilt.   
Holy shit. “Jack  _ Zimmermann _ ?” Jeff stared. He was sure he looked as shocked as he felt. Why ask him? Jeff hadn’t even considered the possibility that he could be gay. Did that mean --

Eric looked up at him, frowning. His eyes searched Jeff’s face for a minute. “He didn’t tell you?” he asked.

Tilting his head, Jeff eyed Eric for a second. “Tell me what?”   
“Um…” Eric chewed on his lip, glancing away.

Right. Clearly something that Eric didn’t think he needed to share. Was it about Zimmermann? Was it -- all those rumors about Kent and Jack back in juniors. Were those  _ true _ ?

Damn. Did that make Jack Zimmermann Kent’s ex-boyfriend?   
  
“Yeah,” said Jeff, said slowly, filling the silence, “okay.” Obviously Kent and Eric needed to talk. He crossed his arms over his chest, sighing. “He’s in the bedroom,” he said. “I’ll go see if he wants to see you.” After stopped for a glass of water in the kitchen, Jeff headed down the hall to his bedroom. 

The door creaked as he pushed it open. “Hey, man,” he said. “You awake? I brought you some water.”

“Eric’s here, isn’t he?” Kent didn’t move from his huddle in Jeff’s bed, curled up with Kevin.

“Yeah. D’you want me to send him away?” Jeff asked. “Because I’ll send him away right now.”

“It’s okay,” Kent said. “You don’t have to send him away.”

Jeff sighed. “You want me to send him back here, then?”

Kent shrugged one shoulder. “I guess.”

Chewing his lower lip, Jeff stood there for a moment. The room was dark and cool and if Jeff were a stronger person, he wouldn’t have let Eric in at all. He would’ve told Kent that he loved him and stayed to hold him and everything would’ve been --

He took a breath. Kent loved Eric. And he didn’t want Eric to leave. “Okay,” Jeff said, and left the room.

When he returned to the living room and cleared his throat behind the sofa, Eric jerked a little. “You can go back there,” Jeff said. He sat on his sofa, weariness deep in his bones.   
A wave of relief passed over Eric’s face. “All right.” Eric stood up, brushing at his thighs with both hands. He looked nervous. It took no time for him to turn for the hall, to start walking. It was just --

  
Jeff swallowed. “Hey, Eric?”  
  
Eric turned, looking back.  
  
“He loves you,” said Jeff.   
  
“I know,” said Eric. He bit his lip. “I love him, too, Jeff.”  
  
“Yeah. Please don’t --” Jeff stopped, looked up at his ceiling, sighed. “Please don’t hurt him any more, Eric.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to hurt him at all,” Eric said, voice gentle and soft.

Yeah. 

Right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and [here's the title song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rn_7DlufU_E)
> 
> the formatting looks weird on this one. i don't know why. sorry y'all.


	37. you make me feel dissatisfied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is in the timeline with HH chapters 32 & 33
> 
> spring 2016.

Standing out in the hall, Jeff leaned his head back for a second, looking up at the ceiling.

Fuck. He was such a shitty best friend.

They’d had to leave on a roadie two days after Eric left, and Jeff had yet to really  _ talk _ to Kent since the night he’d come over. He was certain Kent had heard him yell at Eric, and he had no idea what Eric had said about the whole situation. But they’d both come to family day like nothing had happened, and -- and Eric was great with Christopher’s kids, he was great with everyone, and Jeff didn’t know how to feel about that.

It ate at him, making him feel awkward and off-balance. He and Kent didn’t go days without really talking, that wasn’t how their relationship worked. And Kent -- surely he needed to talk after something like that, no matter how painful it might be for Jeff. It wasn’t Kent’s fault that he didn’t love Jeff back. Shit, he didn’t even know how Jeff felt, and that wasn’t his fault, either. 

Lifting a hand, Jeff knocked.

Kent opened the door, the faint sheen of silvery glitter dusting his collarbone where it was visible from the fit of his loose shirt. Jeff could smell citrus and flowers. “Swoops,” Kent said, “what’s up?” He took a step back from the door, allowing Jeff inside.

“You just out of the bath?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah.” Kent turned away, walking further into the room without looking back.

“It’s just --” Jeff shut the door behind him before turning to face Kent. He’d already sat back down on the bed and was holding the television remote, turning the volume down. It was on a home makeover show. “I was, you know. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Kent glanced at him. “Am I in trouble?” he asked.

Jeff sat on the end of the bed. “Am I?” he asked.

Tilting his head, Kent looked away from him, setting the remote down on the bedside table. “That’s -- no, man. C’mon. I’m --”

“I probably shouldn’t have yelled at your boyfriend,” Jeff said. 

“Maybe,” Kent said.

“I was just worried about you.” He shook his head. Fuck. “I mean, you show up at my place and you’re obviously upset and then you guys come to family day like it’s nothing and we haven’t  _ talked _ , and we don’t  _ do _ that, and it’s just --” he swallowed. “I feel weird.”

Kent was looking at his knees. “I feel weird, too,” he said. “I’m not  **mad** at you. But you don’t, um.” He looked up. “You don’t know anything about my relationship, so.”

That wasn’t, in Jeff’s opinion, strictly true. He’d seen how Kent looked when he was on the phone with Eric, had seen them on Skype together. They were obviously happy -- they looked at each other the way Christopher and Bethany did. 

And Jeff knew  _ Kent _ , knew that he probably tried his best to make Eric happy no matter what that meant.

“Yeah,” said Jeff. “I, uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I realized that. And so I thought you might... want to tell me about it?”

Kent’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Eric,” Jeff said. “I thought you might want to tell me about him.” 

Kent leaned back against a pillow. “What about him?”

Jeff shrugged. “Everything. Whatever you want me to know.” He grinned. “I mean, I don’t need, like.  _ Details _ about your sex life, but --”

Kent threw a pillow at his face.

Jeff caught it. “You know, the normal gossip shit. How’d you meet him? What’s he in school for? D’you like his parents? You know. Shit like that.” The stuff he knew Kent probably wanted, but didn’t dare, to tell his mom.

“Are you saying you wanna have girl time right now?” Kent asked.

“Boy time,” Jeff said, “actually. Scoot over.”


	38. as our lives change, come whatever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late spring 2016

Ugh, his phone was ringing. Jeff dropped his bread into the toaster slots before picking up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jeff,” Christopher said.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Jeff pushed the lever on the toaster, shoving his bread down into it. 

“You busy?”

Jeff frowned. “No,” he said, “but if you’re looking for a babysitter you know Kent would do anything to hold Teddy for the next million years.” He took the peanut butter out of his cabinet. 

“Nah, I’m not looking for a babysitter,” Christopher said. “I was just gonna see if you wanted to hang out.”

Really? Was something wrong? “Oh,” said Jeff, “uh, sure? I just put bread in the toaster. You wanna come over?”

“Sure,” Christopher said.

About a half hour later, Christopher was lounging in Jeff’s living room, both of them trying in a half-assed manner to kick the other’s ass on NHL 15.

“I can’t believe we’re literally playing a hockey video game,” Christopher said.

“You’re just mad your stats weren’t better in here,” said Jeff, and Christopher laughed.

“A little bit, yeah.”

Over lunch, Christopher kept giving Jeff  _ looks _ . They were irritating, obvious looks, the kind that made it clear Christopher had something to say -- but every time Jeff met his gaze he looked away. It was annoying.

“What?” Jeff asked, finally. “What is it?”

“Look, I --” Christopher cleared his throat. “You know, I spent a long time being really busy with hockey and Bethany and the kids and I just kinda realized that I haven’t... made time for you.” He glanced over.

Jeff blinked. 

“So if you, you know. If you need to talk about anything, I just wanted to let you know I’m… around,” Christopher continued. “I know it feels like we’re competing a lot, but --”

“It doesn’t,” Jeff said.

Christopher frowned. “What?”

“Feel like we’re competing,” Jeff said. “It doesn’t.” Because Christopher would always win, so what was the point? He hadn’t felt like he was actually competing with Christopher for anything in years.

“You know I promised mom when you moved here that I’d look out for you,” Christopher said, after a minute.

“I know,” said Jeff. He didn’t need it, but it was nice of her.

“So if there’s… anything, or, uh. Anybody? That you wanna… talk about?” Rubbing the back of his neck, Christopher flushed. “Well, I’m here. Okay?”

What? Where was this coming from? “I’m -- I’m okay, Chris,” Jeff said. “But if you have something you wanna say, by all means, spit it out.”

Christopher fidgeted. “You know I don’t… care, right, if you’re gay?”

God, this was about Kent. It had to be. “I’m not  _ gay _ ,” Jeff said. Jesus.

“Okay,” said Christopher. “Just. If you were.”

If he were. How was he supposed to know? Jeff assumed that he couldn’t be gay, because it wasn’t like he didn’t  _ like _ girls at all -- it was just that he didn’t think he liked them the way he was  _ supposed _ to like them. Sex was fun, he guessed, in a scratching-an-itch kind of way. But he didn’t want to  _ marry _ a girl, he’d never really envisioned himself with a wife. A house full of kids, sure. But a wife?

The only person he’d ever envisioned in his hypothetical perfect future life was Kent. But did that make him gay?

“I don’t  _ know _ what I am, all right?” Jeff scrubbed hands through his hair. Damnit, mom! Had she called him? “Fuck. Did mom tell you?”

“Mom?” Christopher frowned. “No, dude. I just -- look, we all know that was Kent’s boyfriend, not just his friend, no matter what he said. And I kind of thought -- well, our whole fucking  _ family _ thought you were his boyfriend since forever, so it’s not like it was hard to figure out, okay?”

The whole family? “I --” He coughed. “You thought he was my  _ boyfriend _ ?”

“I’ve never seen you like this with anyone,” Christopher said. “Not ever.”

“I --”

“I saw you at family day, all right?” Christopher cut him off. “Don’t pretend you don’t care.”

Jeff swallowed.

It sucked because it was true. Jeff had hated family day. Eric fit right in with everyone so easily, with his bright smile and warm accent. He’d offered to babysit and made everyone’s lives easier and Julianna had asked Christopher how soon Eric would be back. And Kent -- Kent adored him. Jeff already knew that, it wasn’t like he’d never seen them together, it was just… 

“If you wanna talk about it, I’m here, okay?” Christopher said. “No bullshit. Because this --” he sighed. “This has to suck, man. It  _ has _ to.”

Jeff glanced away, eyes burning a little. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “I’m -- It --” fuck, he couldn’t even get the words out.

Christopher hugged him.


	39. cats in the cradle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> playoffs 2016

The box let out a tiny mew.

“Oh my God,” said Kent, diving for it, “there’s a _ kitty _ in there!”

It was the fluffiest kitten Jeff had  _ ever _ seen. Its ears were gigantic and pointed with tufts of fur sticking out. “Who sent you a  _ cat _ in the mail?” he asked.

Kent shrugged, not looking up from the kitten at all. “Who cares?” He cradled it to his chest. “Ohhhhh my God.” The kitten meowed again and Kent laughed. “Fuck, it’s so fucking cute.”

It really was. _ Kent _ really was. The kitten batted at his finger with one tiny paw.

“I’m naming him Purrs,” he said, nestling his face close to the kitten’s fur.

“Of course you are,” said Jeff, because Kent only named his animals stupid things. Before long every inch of Kent’s social media was going to be covered in cats.  Rustling around in the box, Jeff unearthed a card. “Oh, here you go. Keats sent it -- from Chicago? That Keats?”

“Oh, God bless, he  _ fucking _ would.” Kent laughed. “I hope he gets traded here.”

“He is such a weird dude,” Jeff said. “I can’t believe he’s not a goalie.”

“You and everyone else.”  Kent got off the floor, carrying the kitten to his sofa where he wound them both up in a blanket. “Hey, little buddy,” he said, settling the kitten under the covers. “There you go. Long ride in a box, hey?”

Jeff shook his head and went to let Kevin out, yawning as he opened the door. It had been a long night -- they could’ve played better, but it was what it was. He’d feel better after some sleep.

“Oh my God,” Kent was saying, as Jeff stepped back inside, “I gotta buy kitten food. And stuff.”

“Can’t he eat Kit’s food?” Jeff asked. 

“He’s a  _ baby _ ,” Kent said. “He needs  _ baby _ food.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Jeff threw himself down on the sofa.

Honestly, Purrs was pretty cute. Jeff was rubbing under his tiny chin with one finger before he knew it, listening to the soft, itty bitty kitten purr. He was so  _ fluffy _ .

Glancing at the clock, Jeff rubbed his face. He needed to eat something and go to sleep. Standing, he stretched both arms up over his head. “Fuck,” he said, “I’m tired.”

“I know,” Kent said. “Long day.” He was still fussing with Purrs, head tilted down. His laptop was open on the coffee table. “We’ll go to bed soon, huh, buddy?”

The computer made the ringing Skype call noise while Jeff was in the kitchen.

“Hey, you,” Kent said, using the soft voice he always used when he was talking to Eric.   
Right. That was Jeff’s cue.

  
He picked up his plate and walked back out to the living room. “Hi, Eric,” he said, glancing at the laptop screen. Eric was tucked into bed somewhere -- not his room, Jeff knew that. He was familiar with Eric’s room.

_ It’s not my business _ . Jeff cleared his throat.   
  


“Hi, Jeff,” Eric said. “Is your head better?”   
His head? Jeff frowned for just a second. Why would --  _ oh _ . He’d had a migraine the other day. “Yeah,” he said, “thanks.”   
Kevin took that precise moment to jump up on the sofa next to Kent and lick his face. He bumped at her with one shoulder, laughing. “Kevin, no!”   
On screen, Eric laughed.   
  
He needed to go. “C’mon, Kev,” said Jeff. “Leave Kent and his baby alone.” Kent would probably want to show Purrs to Eric and tell him all about how adorable he was. Jeff waved at the camera with one hand as Kevin jumped down from the sofa. “’Night, Eric.”   
“Good night, Jeff!” Eric smiled. 

Jeff left the living room, making sure Kevin was following. Ducking into his room -- the guest room, whatever -- he set his plate on the bedside table. Sitting down on the bed, Jeff rubbed his face with both hands.

Fuck, this sucked.

Eric was so nice. Honestly. It was irritating. He was trying so hard to be friends with Jeff -- sending him nice messages, being friendly, making sure to notice his presence if he was around. Kent didn’t seem much worse for the wear after that whole meltdown. He kept giving Jeff little sidelong glances if they were together when Eric called, and they’d started including Eric in their TV watching on roadies where they could. It was obvious that Kent wanted them to get along, and if he were honest with himself, Jeff would admit that Eric was funny and he liked having him hanging out in the background when they were just watching TV in a hotel. He never said anything when Kent fell asleep on Jeff and left Jeff to end the call. In fact, he seemed kind of  _ happy _ about it.

Forgiving him for Kent’s showing up on Jeff’s doorstep in his sad hoodie would take some time, though. Jeff hadn’t forgotten about that. And if he took a couple extra steps to take care of Kent in an obvious, visual way, well -- 

Well, Kent deserved it, and Jeff didn’t really care if Eric liked it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't mail cats. while it is _possible_ it is a lot of work and really not the best way to transport them!
> 
> i just spent forever going through my timeline, shuffling chapters, and putting dates on all of them. hopefully it helps!


	40. night ride home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016

“Hey,” Jeff said, as soon as Christopher picked up the phone.

“Hey,” said Christopher.

“Mom asked me if Kent’s visiting this summer,” Jeff said.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “Uh -- why wouldn’t he?”

What. An. Idiot.

“Eric,” Jeff said. Seriously, c’mon. Christopher, of all people, should know why already.

Christopher paused and Jeff could just _see_ him blinking in his mind’s eye. “Oh,” he said. “I guess I just thought he’d bring him.”

Of course he just thought he’d bring him. Christopher probably gave it about two minutes’ worth of thought and that thought was probably _I can use him as a babysitter_ . “That’s what I’m saying,” Jeff said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I don’t know if he knows he _can_ bring him. His family is like, crazy religious.” He sat on his sofa, reaching out a hand to Kevin as she wormed her way into his lap.

“Well --” It sounded like Christopher was chasing his children. “We're not. Didn’t you tell him?” he asked.

Like it was that easy.

“What,” said Jeff, “I’m just supposed to randomly say hey, Kent, you gonna bring your boyfriend to my place for the summer?”

“No -- Oliver -- I _told_ you not to make a volcano in the kitchen, just --” Christopher set his phone down, Jeff could hear the _click_ of it on a surface. Muffled sounds of a child getting in trouble filtered through and Jeff sighed, leaning his head back.

Christopher wasn’t going to be any help.

“Listen,” Christopher said, once he’d picked the phone up again, “you want me to ask him? Because of your, um. You know?”

“Uh,” said Jeff. His neck felt hot. “No. No, that’s not what I meant.” Jesus.

Christopher sighed. “Look, man, what do you want me to say? Ask him if he’s coming, say mom asked you. Just see what he says.”

“Right.” Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. I’ll just -- yeah. I’ll do that.”

“Yeah,” said Christopher, “okay. If he gets weird just tell him no one cares. I gotta -- are we cool? ‘Cause I gotta go, Oliver’s trying to blow up the kitchen again.”

“Sure,” said Jeff, “go stop the apocalypse.”

He tossed his phone onto the sofa. So he’d just have to… ask Kent if he was coming, and see what he said. Be casual about it. Some time in the near future, probably, before he made other plans. Groaning, Jeff rubbed his face.

Okay.

After practice seemed like a decent time. Kent had propped himself up in the corner of his sofa, textbook open on his lap. He was sticking his tongue out just a little, which meant that he was really thinking about whatever it was he was reading.

Jeff stepped into Kent’s kitchen to make tea for both of them. He was just going to say he spoke to his mom and that she’d asked after Kent. That was pretty easy, right? And then he could just… see where Kent was with the whole thing. If he’d thought about it.

Returning to the living room, he set a cup down on the table before settling onto the sofa. “Hey, Parse?” He wrapped his hands around his mug of tea.

“Mm?” Kent didn’t look up from his textbook.

“Mom called the other day,” Jeff said. “Asked me if you’re coming for the summer.”

“Oh,” Kent said. He looked up. “I, um. I was planning on seeing Eric this summer.”

“I didn’t realize the two were mutually exclusive,” Jeff said, keeping his tone light.

Kent stared at him.

Jeff shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I don’t see why they should be. You can bring Eric. You know that --” _We. I._ “-- That they all love you, and mom and dad would love to meet him. They’ll probably fucking love him.”

“Oh,” said Kent. “I --” he slid his tongue over his lower lip. “I, um. They would?”

Ah, god. Of course Kent hadn’t realized he could bring Eric with him. It probably hadn’t even occurred to him to ask. He would never take Eric to meet his own family, or at least -- if he did, he’d never expect it to be a pleasant experience. Kent and Eric had been together for, what? Two years? Jeff knew that Eric hadn’t met Kent’s mother.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if Eric would _want_ to meet her, all things considered.

“Yeah, man,” Jeff said. “C’mon. Did you really think you couldn’t come home any more?” He bumped Kent’s foot with his thigh.

Kent tensed his shoulders, chewing on his thumbnail. “I didn’t know if that was, you know. A thing,” he said.

“It’s a thing,” Jeff said.

“But I usually stay in your room, and -- and you don’t want Eric and me in your room,” Kent said, picking at the eraser on his pencil. “The bed’s too small.”

Like that was the only reason. “Yeah,” said Jeff, “that’s a fair point. But you don’t have to stay in my room. You can, like, get an AirBnB or something.” He paused. “But _you_ get the break the news that you’re not staying at home to mom.”

“She’ll hate it,” said Kent, shoulders relaxing down.

“Just get something close by,” Jeff suggested.

Kent grinned a little. “Won’t you miss me?”

“Yeah,” Jeff said.

Kent tilted his head. “Really?”

Shrugging, Jeff sipped from his cup. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he said.

“Aww,” Kent said, as Kit curled her tail around Jeff’s neck. “That’s so sweet.”

“You should call her,” Jeff said.

“Yeah,” said Kent, “okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... of course Kent wouldn't invite Eric to Calgary for the summer without permission. C'mon, y'all.


	41. i know i'm not wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter include: discussions of implied or suspected emotional/sexual/physical abuse, gaslighting, internalized victim blaming, suicide mention, unhealthy relationships in general
> 
> 2016.

“So,” Jeff said, leaning on Kent’s bathroom doorframe, trying to make his posture as nonthreatening as possible. They’d watched an episode of  _ Man in the High Castle _ with Eric earlier, and it was becoming apparent to Jeff that Eric and Jack Zimmermann were definitely more than friends.  **Way** more.

Considering how very recently Jeff had opened his door to find Kent on his doorstep and Jack Zimmermann partially responsible… he had questions.

“Yeah?” Kent spat toothpaste into the sink. “What?” He tossed a capful of purple mouthwash into his mouth, swishing it with his usual enthusiasm.

“Just, uh.” Jeff rubbed the back of his neck.  _ Just do it _ . “I --” he took a breath. “I know it’s not my place, okay, and you can, um. You can feel free to tell me to fuck off, okay?”

Kent slanted his gaze toward Jeff for a moment before spitting into the sink again. “O… kay,” he said.

“What happened?” Jeff asked.  _ God, please don’t let me regret this _ . “Between you and Jack?”

“I, um.” Kent busied himself with washing his hands. “Can we -- can we not do this in my bathroom?”

Pushing away from the door frame, Jeff nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll, uh -- living room?”

Kent pushed past him, heading downstairs. He got a glass of water before curling up in the corner of his sofa. Dragging a blanket onto his lap, he took a long drink from his glass. Purrs clawed his way up into Kent’s lap, making a little nest in the blanket.

Jeff sat on the other end of the sofa. Fuck, he felt like he was going to throw up. Chewing his lower lip, he looked at Kent’s face for a moment. When Kent turned to look at him, Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh,” he said. “I was just wondering, after seeing him the other day --”

“Just ask me what you really want to know, okay?” Kent set his water glass down with a bit more force than seemed necessary.

“Um, okay.” Jeff rubbed one of his thighs, thinking. “So were you guys, like.” Friends? Boyfriends? Lovers? Fuckbuddies? Surely not fuckbuddies. “I mean -- what were you?” 

Kent leaned his head in his hand. "What are you talking about?" 

"C'mon, man, I'm not stupid. There were a million rumors and you know it." 

Kent leaned back a little. “Oh,” he said. 

Aw, fuck. “Look, if you don’t wanna talk about this, I totally get it,” Jeff said, words coming out in a rush. It really wasn’t his business, anyway. He shouldn’t have asked. “I’m sorry, I should --”

Kent interrupted him. “It’s fine,” he said. “Everyone else is thinking it, right? Might as well ask me.” He gnawed at his thumbnail for a minute. “You’re asking if he was my boyfriend,” Kent said, finally. “Aren’t you?”

Jeff’s neck felt hot. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

“I thought he was,” Kent said.

What did that even  _ mean _ ? “Oh,” said Jeff. "Did you ever... discuss it with him?"

“Didn’t really cross my mind.” Looking down at Purrs, so small in his lap, Kent smiled softly. He rubbed his index finger over one of Purrs’s giant ears.

Jeff tried to wrap his mind around what Kent was saying. He  _ thought _ they were boyfriends, but he never thought to ask. That meant they weren’t, didn’t it? Or -- that Kent thought they were and Jack thought they weren’t? He frowned. Kent still received an invitation to Bob’s ceremony, the night he accidentally came out on national television. He’d been close to them. Was it because -- “Did his parents know?” he asked.

Kent’s shoulders tensed. “Y-yeah,” he said, after an intensely awkward pause. “They knew.”

It was not, in Jeff’s opinion, the going thing to discuss random fuckbuddies with one’s parents. If the Zimmermanns knew about Jack and Kent, that meant they were more than just friends with benefits. Didn’t it? “So you…”

“I slept with him, okay?” Kent snapped, cutting him off. “A lot. All right? And I -- I thought that that meant he loved me because I thought that’s what sex meant because I was a stupid  _ fucking _ seventeen year old, okay?” He looked away from Jeff, biting down on a fingernail.

Ah.

“Did he, um.” Goddamnit. Jeff rubbed the back of his neck. “Did he ever, um. Did he ever... force himself on you?”

“F--” Kent jerked back around to stare at Jeff. “ _ Force himself on me _ ? No! What the hell?”

Okay, in Jeff’s defense? Kent hadn’t acted happy to see or hear about Zimmermann at basically any time that Jeff could recall, ever. “Well -- look, you hate it when people mention him and you show up on my doorstep like that a few months ago and the _ only  _ variable was Zimmermann, okay, and I --”

“I did everything under my own free will, all right?” Kent snapped. “He never touched me. Like that, I mean.”

“I’m sorry, man,” said Jeff. Shit. “I --”

“Look, I -- I made my own choices. With Jack. Okay? He didn’t  _ make _ me do anything. It was my -- it was me.” Kent took a breath. “I was a stupid kid.”

None of that really explained things though, not the way Jeff wanted. The way Kent looked at Jack in that hospital room, the fact that he never mentioned him, his intense insistence that everything was his fault -- those weren’t just leftover feelings from a harmless teenage fling. Jeff had had a million harmless teenage flings. He knew what those looked like, and that wasn’t it. It didn’t add up.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, finally.

“What?” Kent looked up just as Purrs bit him in the thumb. “Like -- what d’you mean?” He swatted lightly at Purrs, waving him off.

“When you were in juniors,” Jeff said. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” Kent said, picking at the blanket. He was looking  _ anywhere _ except in Jeff’s direction. 

Jeff tilted his head. “Parse. What do you think I’m asking you, right now?”

Kent swallowed, not looking up from his hands. “It sounds like you’re asking me if Jack hit me, or something,” he said, after a moment. “The answer is no.  **_No_ ** . He wouldn’t -- he would never do that.”

“Okay,” said Jeff. That was good. “But emotionally, did he hurt you?”

“That’s --” Purrs crept into Kent’s lap again. “I’m not a child, Jeffrey. He didn’t have to walk on eggshells because he was constantly worried about hurting my feelings or… whatever.” 

Kent only really called him _ Jeffrey _ when he was mad. "I didn't say that,” Jeff said. “I'm asking if he ever made you feel like shit when you didn't deserve it.”

Kent sat quietly for a minute, rubbing trembling fingers over Purrs’s fur. “No,” he said. “Not when I didn’t deserve it.”

Okay. This wasn’t working. He was going to have to try something else. Maybe -- “What was Jack like?” Jeff asked.

“Oh, um.” Kent took a breath, leaned back against the sofa. “He was a perfectionist,” he said. “So good at hockey, really passionate. And he was, y’know. Moody. Seventeen. But he helped me a lot, you know, figure out things I needed to work on, stuff like that. Hockey.” He paused, running his tongue over his lower lip. “He didn’t really like to talk about his feelings but he was so sweet, sometimes. He would --” he broke off for a moment. “He listened to me, you know, when Mom met Dan. He made me feel better.”

“Sure,” said Jeff. “Then why aren’t you guys friends any more?”

“I --” Kent stared for a moment before shutting his mouth with an audible  _ click _ of teeth. He swallowed. “I wasn’t good to him, Jeff,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to do anything.”

Jeff frowned. “What do you mean?”

Kent shrugged. He scratched under Purrs’s chin, focusing on the cat instead of Jeff’s question. 

All right. Kent said Jack was a perfectionist, that he  _ helped _ him figure out things he needed to work on. He was moody. He didn’t like talking about his emotions. Thinking, Jeff chewed his lower lip. What did he need to ask? 

“Did he make you feel like it was your fault when you guys lost a game?” Jeff asked. Kent was always saying that, and he took losses so personally. That had to come from somewhere, right? Kent said Jack never made him feel like shit  _ when he didn’t deserve it _ , which wasn’t the same thing as saying no.

“It  _ was _ my fault,” Kent said, looking up. “We’ve talked about this. I was a shitty player, I had to get better.”

Bingo. “But did Jack _ say _ that to you?” 

“Well -- yeah,” Kent said, unwinding under the blanket just a little. “I mean, he was just being  _ honest _ with me. And he’d tell me when I did things right, too, it wasn’t just… it wasn’t just criticism.”

Sure, okay. Jeff rolled his shoulders back, fighting the building knot between them. “What else was your fault?”

One of Kent’s shoulders lifted in the barest of shrugs. “I just made things harder for him. That’s the truth, okay? I made him so anxious and I disagreed with his dad and I should’ve --” he shook his head. “I just, you know. We drank too much and did stupid stuff and I didn’t, um. I didn’t respect boundaries and I pushed him too hard. He didn’t need that, not from me, and I -- I thought I was helping,” Kent said. “I mean, I was trying to help. But he didn’t need me fucking micromanaging his life and if I hadn’t been so  _ fucking _ …” he shook his head again, clearly searching for words. “He wouldn’t’ve --”

He didn’t have to finish that train of thought for Jeff to know what it meant. Kent meant that Jack wouldn’t have overdosed if it weren’t for him. He meant that he felt responsible for what sounded, in Jeff’s opinion, like a suicide attempt.

“Did you love him?” Jeff asked.

“Yes,” Kent said, as if he were saying the sky was blue. It was fact to him, simple. “And he hates me for it.”

Jeff’s stomach twisted. God, to feel like you killed the person you loved -- what must that be like? Had Kent ever talked to anyone about it? Did he talk to Brian?

Jeff thought about the bathroom door, about how Kent never wanted it closed. He had so many nightmares, but never wanted to discuss the substance of his dreams. “Is this what you dream about?” Jeff asked, and his voice was so soft that he barely heard it himself. “Jack?”

Kent nodded without looking Jeff in the face. “He was in the hotel bathroom,” he said. “I just wanted him to help me pick a tie.”

He wanted him to -- fuck. Jeff took a breath. “You -- did you find him?” he asked.

Kent nodded again.

“Shit, Parse. Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Jeff asked, finally. Kent came to them almost immediately after the draft. Jack’s overdose was -- fuck, how long had it even  _ been _ ? Hardly any time at all had passed. And Kent never said anything. 

_ Nothing. _

“Because it doesn’t matter,” Kent said, voice soft. “Talking about it doesn’t change any of it.”

“Jack’s overdose wasn’t your --”

“Wasn’t my fault, yeah,” Kent said, uninterested in listening to whatever else Jeff had to say, “that’s what everyone says.”

Right. Jeff swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Me too,” said Kent.

Looking down at his hands, Jeff cleared his throat. “And does Eric know?”

“Does Eric know what?” Kent shifted on the sofa and Purrs scooted under the blanket, exploring.

“Just -- all of it,” Jeff said, “I guess.”

“Mostly,” Kent said. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?” Jeff asked.

Kent looked back up at him. “Not like I used to,” he said. “Depends on the day.”

Jeff paused. “Do I, um.” He swallowed. “Do I remind you of him at all?”  _ Is that why you can’t ever love me? _

Kent tilted his head, looking at Jeff’s face for a long moment. “No,” he said. “Or --” he frowned. “If you do, it’s --” Stopping, Kent ran his hands through his hair, thinking. 

Jeff waited.

“You’re nothing like him,” Kent said, finally. “Except your cellies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to: piesnpucks, abominableobriens, yoursummerfrost, garden-of-succulents, and rhysiana for fannish consultation while writing this part!


	42. blindness, blindness, and sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2016.

Jeff was just turning over in bed to shut the light off when he heard a light knock at the bedroom door. He frowned. Why was Kent _knocking_? It was his house. “Come in?”

The door creaked open and Kent peeked around the side, Purrs on his shoulder. He was wearing that North Stars hoodie. “Are you sleeping?” he asked, voice soft.

“Obviously not,” Jeff said, sitting up a little further. He frowned. “What’s up?”

Kent chewed his lower lip. “Do you mind, um. Sitting with me for a little while?”

Sitting with him? What did that entail, exactly? “What," said Jeff, “like, on the couch?” He was already mostly naked and tucked in to bed. He’d get out if he had to, but he’d rather not.

“Wherever,” Kent said.

Ah. Jeff scooted over in the bed, making room. “C’mon then,” he said.

Kent shuffled in. He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating for a minute. It looked like he’d been chewing his lower lip for a while.

“What’s the matter, bud?” Jeff asked. Was it Eric? He was staying with Jack and, even though Kent said he was fine with it, Jeff was sure he had to be feeling… some kind of way about it.

Kent shrugged the shoulder that didn’t contain a cat. “I don’t know. I just --” he wiggled under the covers, edging closer to Jeff. “I’m just --” he sighed.

All right. He needed a minute. Jeff slid an arm around Kent, pulling him a bit closer. It took a moment for Kent to relax against him, but once he did Purrs wiggled his way down to stretch across their laps.

“I was talking to Eric,” Kent said.

“Yeah?” Jeff edged just a little closer. “And?”

“He told me to see if you minded sitting with me for a while?”

Jeff frowned again. Why? “Okay,” he said. “I don’t mind. You know that. I’ll sit with you as long as you want.”

Nodding, Kent picked at the edge of the sheet, not looking up.

“You wanna tell me why, though?” Jeff asked, keeping his voice soft.

Kent was quiet. They sat in silence, Kent idly petting Purrs and Jeff just… waiting. Kent scratched under Purrs chin. “I guess I’m nervous,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” said Jeff, again. “About what?”

“Finals,” Kent admitted. “I mean -- making it to finals. Whatever.”

Jeff nodded. “I get that,” he said. “It’s kind of a big deal.” He rubbed at Kent’s shoulder with his thumb. “But, y’know. We’ll just have to do our best, right?”

“I don’t want to let you guys down,” Kent said. “If we don’t make it, I just -- it’ll just -- and after last year, fuck.”

He didn’t need to finish that thought. Kent thought if they lost everyone would blame him, because he would blame himself. Jeff didn’t need him to say that to know what he meant. It wasn’t even a lie to say that some people would, no doubt, blame Kent for the loss just because he was gay, like who he fucked had anything to do with his game.

No. Unacceptable. “We’re gonna win or lose as a team.” Jeff bent his head. “Hey. Look at me.”

Kent’s eyes flicked up behind his glasses.

“You’re a great hockey player,” Jeff said. “And no offense, but -- so are plenty of other guys on this team. I mean, De los Santos is amazing.”

Kent let out a small huff of air, the faint ghost of a laugh.

“I’m serious.” Jeff hugged Kent a bit tighter. “We’ll all work together or whatever. Like Julianna’s ponies.”

There a pause before a soft gasp of disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare us to _My Little Pony_ ?” Kent asked. He curled in closer to Jeff’s side, leaning his head on Jeff’s bare shoulder. “Oh, I’m fucking telling **everyone** you said that.”

“If you were a pony, you’d have cat paw prints on your butt,” Jeff said. He grinned. “And if we win, you’re getting that tattooed.”

Kent laughed for real that time, bright and loud. “Right,” he said. “I’m getting cat prints tattooed on my ass if we win.”

“I’m gonna hold you to this,” Jeff said. “I’m not fucking around.”

“Fine,” said Kent, “but if I have to get cat prints, you have to get…” he pursed his lips, thinking.

“I’ll get dog ones,” said Jeff. He nudged Kevin with his foot.

“Oh, right,” Kent said. “Because of Kevin.” She lifted her head and wagged her tail. “Or you could get like, crossed hockey sticks.”

“That’s so fucking stupid, man.” Jeff laughed. “Dog prints would at least be reasonable.”

“Oh my god,” Kent said, “we’ll have matching tattoos.”

He was back to assuming they’d win. Jeff laughed again, louder. “Yeah. Hot.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Jeff turned his head, looking at Kent. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” said Kent.

“You feel better?”

Turning to look at him, Kent gave him a small smile. “A little, yeah.”

“All right.” Jeff wiggled a little, scooting further under the covers. His shoulders were getting cold.

“Can I --” Kent stopped, swallowed. “Sorry, can I stay, just for a while?”

“Stay all night if you want,” said Jeff. “I don’t give a shit.” He switched the television back on, settling on an episode of _Golden Girls_. He was sick of it, but Kent wasn’t.

He never was.

They tucked down into the bed, nesting under the covers to get comfortable. Kent was a warm, heavy weight against Jeff’s chest, not quite close enough to be the little spoon. By the time the third episode started, Jeff noticed that Kent wasn’t singing along to the theme song. He twisted just a little, craning his neck to see.

Kent’s eyes were closed, lashes dark gold against the skin. He was asleep, Purrs tucked up under his chin into a tiny, tight grey ball. Jeff smiled softly. He pulled away just enough to shut off the television and his lamp before scooting in closer. Kent’s breathing was slow and deep -- he must’ve fallen asleep pretty early. Jeff pressed his forehead to the back of Kent’s neck for a moment, closing his eyes.

He smelled like bright, fresh laundry detergent and the faint mint of toothpaste. Jeff slid his arm around Kent’s waist after a bit of hesitation, tucking in close. The fabric of the worn old hoodie was soft under his arm, warm from Kent’s skin. He took a breath. “Good night,” Jeff whispered, speaking Stoney. “I -- I love you.”

Kent and Purrs both slept on undisturbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and because this one's title might be a bit more obscure... [shadow & light](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zIJlOMxs1dc) by joni mitchell.


	43. when the levee breaks you gotta move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (newest chapter is 6)
> 
> 2016, conference finals

Everyone was on edge -- and why wouldn’t they be? It was the last game of the series. It was win or go home. Jeff felt jittery just thinking about it, even though they’d won the Cup last year.  Sitting down on the bench, he rubbed at his hair with one hand.

It was getting long. Eric had teased him about it on the way home from the airport. Looking down, Jeff quickly undid the buttons of his shirt. He’d feel better once he was dressed. He could listen to some music, do his stretches, take some breaths...

Jeff wasn’t the only nervous one in the room. Several guys dealt with their nerves through humor. It was a common enough coping mechanism. And usually it was just kind of… a bit off-color, nothing awful. But today was obviously different.

“Right, well, y’know. He could have any girl he wanted, I guess it’s not a surprise he went out and found one,” said Juice.

Jeff frowned.

“Right?” Scooby laughed.

Next to Jeff, Kent turned to look back at them, eyes narrowed. He’d only just set his bag down. “ _ What  _ did you just say?” 

“Nothing, man,” Juice said. “Chill.”

Kent shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, already working on his shirt buttons. Before long he was half-dressed, pads on, earbuds in. Jeff could hear the faint sound of Destiny’s Child as Kent leaned over, tugging one sock on.

Like always, Christopher had his stick tape sitting on the bench -- Kent always used Christopher’s tape, had been doing it since he got his first hat trick with Vegas after borrowing it once. When he went to grab it, Carly put his stick out, angling it for his ankles. Kent tripped, catching himself with one hand on the bench and one knee on the floor. “What the  _ fuck _ ?” he snapped.

“Oh, sorry,” Carly said, pulling the stick back, “I just thought you liked it on your knees.” He said it with the friendly, joking tone of a buddy -- but they all knew Carl and Kent weren’t close.

What. The. Fuck.

Jeff pushed up from the bench. “Are you _ fucking _ serious right now?”

Kent pushed himself back upright, grabbed for Christopher’s tape. “Leave it,” he said. “Jeff. Leave it.”

“That’s enough, Carlson,” Christopher said. Glancing at Jeff, he added a “you, too” before looking around the dressing room. “All of you need to get your heads in this game,” he said. “Right the fuck now. Got it?”

He was just trying to keep the peace, probably, and Jeff knew that -- but he hated it all the same. He sat back down, glaring.  _ Him, too _ ? Like standing up for someone was equal to being a complete  _ dick _ ? Jeff put his headphones on. He didn’t need this.

None of them needed this. Fuck. They had a game to focus on.

A chorus of “yeah” and “right on” and various other affirmatives filled the room as Jeff cranked the volume on  _ Eye of the Tiger _ . Whatever.

They were going to win.


	44. so you stole my world

Blind or not, it was a beautiful pass, smooth and clean, because Kent knew Jeff would be there. It wasn’t a play they practiced, but Jeff just  _ knew _ Kent would pass and when he did, Jeff caught the puck and shot it in what felt like slow motion. As it hit the net everything seemed to come back into focus and then he was heading for Kent without thinking, arms already opening wide.

He slammed Kent into the boards, both of them screaming. They  _ did it _ . They won. Kent tossed his helmet to the side to get the face cage out of the way and plant a kiss on Jeff’s cheek, and Jeff’s heart stuttered in his chest. 

Black and maroon confetti exploded over the ice as more of their teammates joined them, everyone grabbing Jeff to hug him or pat his head. Helmets and gloves hit the ice from all directions as they became one giant pile. Jeff’s mouth hurt from smiling already.

God. He’d scored the gamewinner. It was so surreal. Saints wrapped him in a crushing hug, letting out a whoop of joy. “Fuck  _ yeah _ , man! Fuck yeah!”

There were people all over the ice. Coach Scott appeared at Jeff’s elbow, hugged him and Kent at the same time. Everywhere Jeff looked, people were beaming.

“Kent!” Eric shoved his way through the crowd of people on the ice.

Kent turned, caught Eric in his arms, spun them in a little circle before pulling him into a tight hug and burying his face in Eric’s shoulder. Jeff glanced away because it didn’t seem right to stare, skated over to hug Whiskey and ruffle his hair. When he turned around again, Eric was still hugging Kent, and then he pulled back and Kent stared down at him with an intense, quiet look on his face.

And then he kissed him, right at center ice, right on top of the rainbow ace of spades. Eric’s blond hair caught the light, and when they broke apart for Kent to murmur something, the smile on Eric’s face was radiant.

Jeff had seen Eric and Kent kiss before -- of course he had. It just never felt quite like that, never dropped his stomach, made him a bit sick. He swallowed as someone clapped a hand to his shoulder, congratulating him again.

He should be happy. He  _ was _ happy. Of course he was.

A moment later, Christopher wrapped him in a tight hug. “You got the gamewinner,” he said, sounding a little choked up. “I’m so proud of you, bud.”

Jeff gripped at Christopher’s arm, closed his eyes. “We did it,” he said. Even though they’d won last year, it felt different. More special. 

Catching sight of Kent and Eric again, Jeff swallowed.

It kind of felt worse.


	45. when i'm with you i feel like i could die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the night of the las vegas aces 2016 stanley cup win

Fuck. Kent and Eric were dancing again. 

Kent and Eric were dancing again and Kent was  _ very _ drunk, probably more drunk than Jeff could remember him ever being, maybe, and he looked so  _ happy _ . He and Eric held each other close, hands everywhere, and why not? They looked so good together, both of them.

To be fair? It was a Stanley Cup win in  _ Vegas _ , no one could expect a mundane level of partying. Jeff barely remembered the night of their first Cup win, and the only reason he so vividly remembered the last one was he’d been so worried about Kent’s concussion that he hadn’t really allowed himself to drink that much. This time, though? Super-charged partying only, with Kent uninjured and their win still fresh. They ended up at a gay bar, a bunch of them, because Tremblay was dead-set on being inclusive, even if they were all still laughing and drinking and crazy. It was a miracle Jeff hadn’t passed out yet. His blood sugar was probably insane.

God, he was getting old.

“Jeffrey!” Kent’s eyes were bright as he flung arms around Jeff’s waist, pulling at him. When did he leave the dance floor? “C’mon. Dance with us. Please?”

Oh, hell no. “I can’t dance like that,” Jeff protested, because he couldn't. He was not on Eric’s level, like, at all.

“Yes you can!” Eric grabbed his hand. Both their cheeks were pink, smiles warm, and it was too hard to refuse Kent when he looked like that, happy and soft. Jeff would’ve given him anything that night, and he could not find it in him to feel bad about it. He let out a soft breath and allowed them drag him out onto the dance floor, where plenty of other drunk hockey players were already letting loose.

Nobody would notice his bad dancing, right? Surely not.

“Nobody will notice your shitty dancing,” Kent said, like he could read Jeff’s mind, his hand sliding around Jeff’s waist as he moved behind him. “Don’t worry.”

Hah. “I’m not worried,” Jeff said.

“Liar.” Kent let out a cheer when the song flipped over -- Eric did, too. Before Jeff really knew what was happening they were basically just sort of dancing on him, and all he had to do was… stay in between them.

It was nice. 

It was late when they got back to the house, Eric and Kent and Jeff and Saints and a bunch of other guys, continuing the party well after what anyone could call a respectable hour. 

When Kent and Eric finally went to bed, Eric first, Kent paused to say goodnight to Jeff, hugging him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Get some rest,” Jeff said. “We have a presser in the morning.”

Kent smiled up at him. “Thanks,” he said, winding his arms around Jeff’s waist. They stayed like that for a minute, arms around each other, before Jeff squeezed Kent just a bit tighter and let go. 

“Go to bed,” he said. 

“Are you staying?” Kent asked.

Jeff laughed. “What, here? Yeah, man. Where else would I go?” He’d had way too much to drink to even consider going back to his apartment, and Kevin was already at Kent’s house, anyway.

“I don’t know,” Kent said. “I don’t know.” He grabbed for Jeff’s hand again. “We did it.”

“Yeah we did, bud,” said Jeff, rubbing his thumb over the back of Kent’s hand. “G’night, huh?”

“Night.” Kent let go, went up the stairs, detoured to brush his teeth even in his inebriated state.

Nerd.

Jeff rubbed his face and headed for his room, stopping to check his sugar and brush his teeth and splash water on his face before falling into bed, curling up with his dog. He was not going to think about Kent and Eric upstairs or about dancing between them all night, and he was  _ definitely _ not going to think about how he was going to bed alone the night they won the Stanley fucking Cup. His younger self would be shocked.

He bet his sister wouldn’t.


	46. i don't wanna stand 'tween you & love, honey

“Kent’s not  _ staying _ ?” Dagny stared at him in apparent horror. “W-- why not?”

“Because there’s not enough room,” said Jeff. 

Dagny gave the sort of contemptuous look one could only receive from a teenager. “He  _ always _ stays here,” she said. “With you.”

“Yes, well.” Jeff looked down at the laundry, grabbed a shirt to fold so he had an excuse not to look at her. “He brought his boyfriend, this time, so.”

It was silent for so long that Jeff thought Dagny might’ve left. When he looked up, she was standing there, just looking at him.

“What?” Jeff’s shoulders tensed.

“But I thought he was _ your _ boyfriend,” Dagny said, voice soft.

Jeff shrugged one shoulder.

After another minute, Dagny flopped down onto Jeff’s bed. “Well, who  _ is _ he, then?” she asked.

“Who?” Jeff grabbed another shirt to fold.

“Kent’s boyfriend,” Dagny snapped.

“His name’s Eric,” Jeff said. “He’s really nice. You’ll like him.” He glanced up at her. “He likes cooking.”

“Does he play hockey?”

“Yes.” Jeff set the folded shirt down and picked up a bunch of socks.

“Is he tall?” Dagny asked.

“What?” Jeff laughed. “No. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Dagny shrugged and looked out Jeff’s window for a minute, twisting a piece of her hair around a finger. Jeff rolled his socks into pairs, setting them in a pile. Once he’d gotten through the whole laundry basket, he stuffed things into his dresser. When he turned back around, Dagny was still there.

Jeff sat on the bed next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Hey,” he said. “What’s the matter?”

Dagny shook her head. “Nothing,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” said Jeff. 

“I just --” Dagny leaned her head on Jeff’s shoulder. “I thought you guys were gonna be together forever.”

What? “We’ve never  _ been _ together.” Jeff sighed. “Dagny. Kent and I were never dating.”

Dagny shoved away from him suddenly. “Oh my  _ god _ ,” she said. “ _ Jeffrey. _ You didn’t  _ tell him _ ?”

Jeff’s neck heated. What’d she have to say it like that for? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She rolled her eyes. “Uh, the fact that you’re madly in love with Kent and you want to raise his babies?”

“I never said that!”

“I should not be better at this than you are,” Dagny said. 

“W --”

“You’re a grown man,” she continued.

“I --”

“I’m still in  _ high school _ and I confess my crushes better than you.”

It wasn’t the same! “This is different!” Jeff snapped.

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t want to marry mine,” Dagny said.

Damn, she was irritating. “I forgot how annoying you are,” Jeff sighed. “Go away.”

“You should’ve kissed him on national TV,” Dagny said, standing up.

“I hate you,” Jeff said.

“Hate you more.” Dagny paused in Jeff’s doorway. “Is he bringing Eric here?”

“Of course he is,” Jeff said, because why wouldn’t Kent bring Eric over? Their mom wanted to meet him, and Eric was going to be part of Kent’s life for a long time.

“You want me to hate him?” she asked, a minute later.

For a moment, Jeff wanted to say yes. Smiling at her, Jeff shook his head. “Thanks, champ,” he said. “But I’m good.”

“Martyr,” Dagny said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were to pair all the Troy kids off, it would look like this:
> 
> Jeff & Dagny
> 
> Christopher & Monica
> 
> Shylen & her books.


	47. years go by will i still be waiting

“You can  _ adopt _ them,” Kent said, hands full of fluffy orange tabby and face bright with a smile.

“I know! Aren’t they sweet?” Eric took a picture of Kent staring down at the cat. It was his idea to come to Regal Cat Cafe -- he’d found the place on Google, apparently. Jeff hadn’t know there  _ was _ a cat cafe in Calgary.

It was a bit irritating that he hadn’t thought of it first. 

The cafe was adorable. Clean and bright, it had the sort of geometric design to it that Kent liked, and the floor was a fun turquoise color. They had little cakes shaped like cats and funny kitty drink names, like the tea called “Tortoiseshell” that Jeff was currently enjoying. Kent’s hot chocolate came with a cat print in the foam, and they’d all been delighted to hear that the place partnered with a no-kill animal shelter.

“We have to give them a donation,” Kent said, and Eric laughed.

“I’m sure they’ll love that, sweetheart,” he said.

Jeff was sure they would, too. He’d already caught people putting both of them -- all three of them, really -- on Instagram.

Once they were in with the cats, though, he forgot about how many people were probably  _ still _ putting them on social media. Kent was so  _ happy _ . Every time a cat did something cute, he’d look for Eric and Jeff, wanting both of them to see the adorable happening -- which meant that he was constantly pointing out different cats. 

“I’m so glad we came,” Kent said, as a tabby settled into his lap. “Thanks for finding this place. I can’t believe I didn’t know about it before.”

Eric laughed. “Yes, well. I am very good at using the internet, honey,” he said.

“Yes,” said Kent, “very good with The Google.”

Eric laughed again, startling the cat in Kent’s lap.

They spent the rest of that day just wandering around Calgary, talking and poking into stores and restaurants. Eric, it turned out, was more charming and funny than Jeff had realized. He was also very attentive, and he seemed to have figured out some magical way to get Kent to talk about how he was feeling without acting like it was a personal violation. He recognized that Kent wanted to go home before Kent said anything, and his jokes always made Kent laugh.

They pulled up to the condo but Jeff didn’t cut the engine.

Kent poked at the seatbelt to unbuckle it before looking up. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“Nah, it’s late, I should go home.” Jeff smiled.

“Are you sure?” Eric leaned forward. “We could watch so many episodes of  _ The Golden Girls _ !”

Laughing, Jeff reached out to ruffle Eric’s hair. “Thanks, but I really gotta go. Kevin’s waiting for me.”

“Ugh --” Eric ran a hand over the longer part of his hair, trying to settle it again. “Well, fine. But I’m making peanut butter cookies tomorrow.”

“Is that a threat?”

“A promise,” Kent said, opening the passenger side door. “So bring Kevin over when you come.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeff waved as they exited the car. Kent laced their fingers together immediately as Eric pulled in close. The sunset stained their hair red. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye,” said Eric. “Drive safe.”

“Bye,” Kent said. They waited for him to back out of the driveway before heading inside.

Jeff stopped in the kitchen when he got home, pouring a glass of water and checking his sugar before heading upstairs, moving slowly. On the way he clicked off the light his mom left on for him, pausing at the top of the stairs to check that nothing was in the hall before he shut it off.

Fuck, he was tired. Shaking his head, Jeff flipped the light switch and walked straight down the hallway, headed for the last door on the right. They’d had a good day. The cats were cute and they’d had great food and Kent had finally stopped walking with that tension in his shoulders that always built up at the end of a season. And Eric had promised to make peanut butter cookies. So why did he feel so --

There was a light on in his room. As he pushed the door open he could hear a Tori Amos song playing quietly on the stereo.

_ Excuse me, can I be you for a while _ ....

Dagny was laying in his bed with Kevin sprawled out next to her. 

Jeff paused. “Hey, champ,” he said, after a minute. “Everything okay?”

Startling a little, Dagny sat up immediately. Jeff did not recognize the name of the band on her black t-shirt. “I, uh -- what are you doing here?” She hadn’t taken off her eyeliner.

“It’s my room,” Jeff reminded her, stepping in and nudging the door shut. “I recall you having one at the other end of the hall.”

“Well, yeah,” said Dagny, “I just thought, um. I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.”

Jeff set his water glass on the bedside table. “It’s still my room,” he said. Turning to look at the stereo, he grinned. “Are you getting soft in your old age, listening to --” he made air quotes “-- vintage tunes?”

Dagny rolled her eyes and flopped back down.

Jeff flopped down next to her. They laid quietly as the song continued, almost over.

_ Hey, but I don't care 'cause sometimes, I said sometimes I hear my voice _ __  
_ I hear my voice, I hear my voice, and it's been here _ _  
_ __ Silent all these years

Jeff’s eyes hurt. Fuck. He closed them, because nothing could be worse than crying over nothing in front of his baby sister.

“You have a good day?” Dagny asked, after a moment.

Jeff swallowed against the burning in his throat. “Yeah,” he said, because it was, damnit, but his voice came out wrong.

The CD switched over to the next track and Dagny sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “Me, too.”

Scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand, Jeff swallowed. “Yeah?” He pushed up onto one elbow. “Hey. You okay?”

“How did you know you liked boys?” she asked, after a long stretch of quiet.

Oh. “Uh,” said Jeff. “I don’t -- I don’t like boys.” That was not strictly true, but --

Dagny gave him an incredulous look. “You don’t like boys,” she repeated.

Jeff sighed. “I like lots of people,” he said. 

“No, you  _ fuck _ lots of people.”

Holy shit. “ _ Dagny _ !” 

“What?” she finally looked at him. “You do, right? Boys, too?”

“Not any  _ more _ ,” Jeff hissed. Jesus.

“Right,” she said. “Because you’re in love with Kent.”

“Whatever,” Jeff said.

“But you are.” Dagny looked back up at the ceiling. “Did you ever love anybody else?”

Jeff looked down at the blankets. “No,” he admitted, “but that’s not a prerequisite for --” wait. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be telling her. “Uh, not that you shouldn’t be safe, but --” god, it was getting embarrassing. His ears burned. “I just didn’t, um. It never happened before.”

“There’s a word for that, you know,” she said. “Demi--”

“I don’t care,” said Jeff, both because it had nothing to do with her original question and because he didn’t.

“‘Course you don’t,” said Dagny. She paused. “Amelia thinks she’s in love with you.”

He laughed. Right, of course. His sister’s sixteen year old best friend thought she was in love with him. “Where is this going, buddy? I’m tired.”

“She just talks about you a lot,” Dagny said, and something in her tone of voice made Jeff frown. 

She talked about Amelia all the time. They did  _ everything _ together. In fact -- oh. “It’s just hockey,” he said, tone gentle.

“I wish she liked me like that,” Dagny whispered, and Jeff’s heart hurt for her.

He thought about it for a minute before clearing his throat. “Maybe you should just play hockey,” he suggested. 

Dagny finally laughed and punched his shoulder. “Fuck off,” she said. And then, a minute later, “don’t tell mom.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling mom,” Jeff said. “She’ll love hearing you’ve finally decided you like hockey.”

“You’re such a dick,” Dagny said. “I love you.”

Jeff laid his head back down onto his pillow. “I love you too, champ,” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> demiromantic, she was gonna say.
> 
> and this is one time where i am legitimately [linking you to the song directly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzKTbry99X0) if you don't know it.


	48. you & i collide

His phone was ringing. Jeff let out a soft curse, grabbing for the phone while trying not to burn himself on the water he’d just boiled. He was just making some coffee, getting ready to go out on a run. Kent was upstairs still, getting dressed.

“Hello?”  
“Hi,” said Eric. “Um. Can we talk?”

Jeff frowned. “Uh –” He set the french press down. “Yeah? What’s this about?”

“I know that you have… feelings for Kent,” Eric said. “That you probably have for a while.”

Holy -- Jeff coughed. Jesus. Talk about going for the gut -- what could he even say to that? “Look, Eric, I --”

“It’s fine,” Eric said, interrupting him. “I’m not upset. I just think we should, um. We should talk about this? Because it’s been going on for a while.”

  
Wait just a goddamn second. “Nothing is _going on_ ,” Jeff snapped. Fuck, what was he implying? That Jeff would -- what, would help Kent cheat on him?

That Kent would ever cheat on _anyone_ ?

  
“I didn’t mean like **that** ,” Eric said, snapping right back at Jeff. He took a breath. “Just – okay. Okay. This is coming out wrong.”

Jeff frowned again. This was not the best conversation to be having first thing in the morning, not when Kent could be downstairs any minute.

“What do you think,” Eric said softly, “about, um. About dating somebody who has a boyfriend?”

Oh. What? “Uh --” Jeff blinked. “I mean, I -- I never thought about it at all before.” Honestly, he’d only ever thought about _dating_ one person.

Ever.

“It’s fine,” Eric said, interrupting him. “I’m not upset. I thought, um. I thought we had fun this summer, all of us. You know.”

Actually, yeah. Jeff did know. They’d had a lot of fun, and it had felt… nice, at the condo with Kent and Eric. Cozy, even. They’d had a great time at Stampede, and Jeff liked Eric. Really. He made Kent happy.

“And I know things were weird between you and me after, um. After all that mess months ago,” Eric was saying, “and I know we don’t really know each other that well, but I’d – I’d like to get to know you better. If you want.”

“Oh,” said Jeff. His head felt fuzzy. “You mean --” What _did_ he mean, exactly? He pushed the plunger to press the grounds down inside the coffee.

“You’re good to him,” Eric said, then. “All the time. And I love that you are, and Lord knows he needs it.”

Jeff took a deep breath. _You’re good to him._ What was Eric saying? Was this -- “But what about you?” Jeff asked. This didn’t make sense. Eric loved Kent. He’d just met Kent’s _mother_ . That was -- no. God, Jeff was going to **kill him**. “You’re not -- you’re not breaking up with him, are you? Because that’s a horrible idea. If something’s happened I’m sure you guys can work through it, you’re perf--”

“We’re not breaking up,” Eric said. He was _laughing._ Why was he laughing? “Mercy, no. No. I’m only asking if you would maybe want to be Kent’s boyfriend too, that’s all.”

Too? Like, as in _two_? What was he saying? That Jeff could -- be with Kent? For real. Not just as his best friend, but…

Jeff swallowed. “I --”

“You don’t have to date me, too,” Eric said, quickly, as if that’s what Jeff had thought he meant. “I’m not saying anything like that. It’s just that I think you love him and I think he loves you, too, and I don’t see why we can’t -- why it has to be you or me. When it could be you _and_ me.”

Eric _and_ Jeff. His chest hurt from the possibility.

“I --” Was that something he could do? More importantly… had Eric talked to Kent about this at _all_ ? Jeff remembered that awful threesome that wasn’t, remembered the way Eric said he’d thought it was fine and Kent had obviously never been fine with it. “Look, I don’t know, um. I don’t know anything about, like.” _Whatever you’d call that kind of relationship_. “Like how that would work, but it seems -- really complicated and like, I don’t know, like we’d get jealous or something, and I don’t want to make his life harder, so --”

“We could make it work,” Eric said. “Just, will you think about it? Please?”

Jeff jerked when he heard a noise upstairs. Fuck. Kent was coming down. “I’ll think about it,” Jeff said. “Yeah. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Eric. “Thanks. I know this was, um. This was a weird phone call.”

“No shit,” said Jeff. He glanced at the stairs, smiled at Kent’s fuzzy hair. “Hey, man. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure,” said Eric. “Have a good morning.”

“You, too,” Jeff said. He hung up, setting his phone to the side just as Kent entered the kitchen.

“That’s an early call,” Kent said, grabbing a mug. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Jeff. “Everything’s fine, man.” He pushed the french press toward Kent. “C’mon. We gotta get going.”

Kent poured coffee into his mug. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll chug it, whatever.”

Jeff smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goes with HH no.40


	49. finding me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end of july 2016

Jeff didn’t know what to do.

Eric had called over a week ago, asking him think about talking to Kent about -- about what, being in love with him for years? And while Jeff had absorbed that conversation, he was pretty sure, he still hadn’t managed to say… anything. At all. 

It was just -- it was hard. What if Eric was wrong? What if Jeff said something to Kent and it ruined  _ everything _ ? Listening to Kent singing in the shower, waiting his turn, Jeff didn’t think he could bear that. Their season hadn’t even started yet, they weren’t even home in Vegas. For fuck’s sake, they were sharing a bed in his parents’ house.

And he didn’t want to think about not coming home with Kent after practices, about not cooking dinner together and giving up falling asleep next to him, watching movies. He liked his room in Kent’s house. He liked the way Kent came to find him, now, when he had nightmares upstairs. Kent was Jeff’s best friend. 

He’d never really managed to daydream himself through scenarios where he confessed and Kent accepted him. Somehow, all of Jeff’s daydreams skipped right past the beginning and started with them adopting kids, or moving back home to Canada, or just plain being together and happy. The details of how they got there weren’t that important, not really. At least, they never had been, before.

Jeff had never really thought Kent would want him. Not really. Not the way he wanted Eric, where he softened all over when he looked at him and got that shy, sweet smile on his face when their hands touched. 

But Eric wouldn’t have called him to have that conversation if there weren’t  _ something _ there. Would he? Fuck, Jeff didn’t know. He rubbed his face. It made his head hurt, thinking about it. Taking a breath, he banged on the bathroom door. 

“ _ C’mon _ , man!” he yelled. “Don’t use all the hot water!”

“I’m almost  _ done _ , damn!” The water shut off, and Jeff sighed. A moment later, the lock on the bathroom door flipped, and he pushed it open.

“Go ahead,” Kent said, towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping. 

Jeff’s throat felt dry. “Thanks,” he said. “Jerk.”

Kent stuck his tongue out at him, like they were five, and that warmth bloomed in Jeff’s chest. Fuck. He took a breath and stepped past Kent, yanking his shirt off over his head.

Yeah. It could wait.


	50. you're my living proof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> current HH timeline-ish. late summer 2016.

Kent let his head rest against the seat, sighing.

“I know,” said Jeff, tossing his bag in the back of the Jeep. They’d had a rough practice, getting out later than usual. Everyone was rusty -- it was impossible not to be, even training during the summer. And Kent was still getting shit from that stunt at the Final, interview requests and social media nonsense and talks with PR. He’d given an interview with  _ Out _ magazine two days prior and had another one with a different publication coming up soon. 

They’d come to practice together from Kent’s house that day, piled into Jeff’s Jeep after a dubious night’s rest. They always had trouble getting back into a normal routine after going home for the summer -- at least a little -- but Kent seemed to be struggling more than usual. 

He missed Eric.

And cooking dinner after such an awful practice sounded like way,  _ way _ too much work. Jeff rubbed his temples before turning his key in the ignition. “I don’t wanna cook tonight,” he said.

“We can heat up leftovers,” Kent said. “I should have enough.” His eyes were closed. “We can empty my fridge and catch up on TV.”

“All right.” Jeff drove them to Kent’s house, both of them quiet and tired.

They ended up on the sofa with plates of leftover roasted vegetables and baked chicken. 

“I’m just --” Kent stuffed a bit of chicken into his mouth. “It’d be so much easier if someone else was out,” he said, once he’d swallowed. “Not that anyone else has to do it, I get it, it’s just  _ fucking _ exhausting.” His phone was constantly buzzing.

Jeff leaned his head in his hand. “I know,” he said. “But you know how it is. It’s hard to say you’re not straight anyway, much less to the media.” 

Kent laughed. He flopped back on the sofa, slithering down into some sort of weird position that didn’t look comfortable, but probably was. “Like you would know,” he said. 

Right. Like he would know. 

To be fair, Jeff had never said he wasn’t straight out loud. His family had all just somehow figured him out and he didn’t really  _ date _ people anyway, so it was a complete non-issue in his life. He shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever.”

It was quiet for a while, both of them just staring at the episode of  _ Brooklyn 99 _ on the television before Kent pushed up onto one elbow. “Jeffrey,” he said, after a minute.

Oh, boy.  _ Jeffrey. _ If it was about practice, Jeff was going to hit him with a pillow. “Mmm?” He lifted his glass, taking a drink to prepare himself for vengeance. 

“D’you like boys?”

Jeff choked on his water. Wait. What? Where was  _ that _ coming from all of a sudden? And why did Kent have to say it like that? He coughed.

A moment later, he laughed. “Wow,” said Jeff, “very grade-school of you.”

“I’m serious,” Kent said.

Oh. Well, fuck. “Um. Why?” Jeff asked. Kent never asked him about his love life.

Not that he had a love life. But they just didn’t really talk about it, not ever. They never had. Kent never badgered him about not having a girlfriend, didn’t ask if he went on dates, and hadn’t ever said anything about his hookups beyond expressing annoyance at being kicked out of his hotel room on roadies years ago.

“Because you said  _ whatever _ like that,” said Kent.

Jeff looked at him. What was he supposed to say? Yeah, sure, he’d kissed guys in college. It wasn’t, like. A thing. He didn’t think about it much. But -- 

But this was his chance, wasn’t it? This was the opening he’d been hoping for over and over for the past however many years. It was the opening he’d have jumped at three years ago, when he first heard Kent anonymously tell the internet that he was gay, before Kent met Eric.

He couldn’t lie. Which meant -- “Sometimes,” Jeff said.

The expression on Kent’s face was utterly unreadable. “Why didn’t you say something to me?” he asked, pushing himself upright again.

His movement left a bit more distance between them on the sofa. Jeff’s stomach sank a little. “Don’t be weird about it,” he said.

“I’m not,” said Kent, but Jeff knew better.

He was. He was  _ totally _ being weird. Jeff shifted, scrubbed his palms on his shorts. His stomach hurt. What was Kent thinking? Was he really upset that Jeff hadn’t said anything? It didn’t change anything about their friendship, but -- Jeff swallowed, thinking about all his stuff in Kent’s spare bedroom.

It  _ could  _ change things. It could.

A minute later, Kent leaned over, resting his head on Jeff’s shoulder. 


	51. killing me softly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> even later summer 2016

They were just watching TV in the living room, both of them sprawled on Kent’s sofa with Kevin in Jeff’s lap, snoring as one episode of  _ The X Files _ flipped over into the next. Jeff let out a soft breath, closing his eyes for a moment. His neck hurt. They’d had a rough practice that day, and after dinner and Kent’s normal call with Eric, they were both exhausted.

A bit later, Kent pulled his fingers through Jeff’s hair. The touch was soft, gentle, maybe a bit mindless -- just a rhythmic sort of stroking, fingers dragging through hair over and over. It felt  _ amazing _ . Jeff shut his eyes, leaning into the touch as a tiny chill went down his spine. Kent’s nails dragged over his scalp and Jeff sucked in a quick breath as warmth bloomed in his stomach.

His eyes sprang open a second later as he realized what was happening. Well, fuck. That was -- inconvenient. What, was his hair just like, wired to his dick or something? He had to get it under control. Kent’s thumb grazed the back of his neck and Jeff shuddered a little.  _ Get your dick under control, Troy _ . Jesus.

Jeff cleared his throat.

Kent’s hand paused. “Uh -- you don’t mind if I touch your hair,” he asked, “right?”

Mind? No. No, Jeff didn’t mind. On the contrary -- he fucking  _ loved _ it. He’d had sex he hadn’t liked half so much. And that was… kind of a problem. 

“Nah, man,” he said quickly. “It’s fine.” Jesus. Why was Kent even  _ asking _ ? He could touch Jeff whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

God, Jeff wished he would.

“Okay,” Kent said, hand moving again, tugging at Jeff’s hair. “How long are you gonna let it get?” he asked, dragging Jeff’s dark hair back into a ponytail.

Jeff shrugged one shoulder, trying to ignore the part of him that wanted Kent to pull harder. “Dunno,” he said. “Long as I want.” If Kent was going to keep touching it like that? Fuck, he’d never cut it again. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Kent said. “It looks good.”

“It’s easy,” said Jeff, because it was. Not having to remember to get it cut was really, really easy. And he knew how to braid, anyway -- after three little sisters, he ought to.

Kent let his hair loose again and Jeff swallowed, thinking about that phone call with Eric and how he’d still not managed to say anything about the way he felt. He tilted his head as Kent’s fingers gathered all his hair up again, tugging at it a little harder.

“Don’t think I know how I braid,” Kent muttered.

“My mom can teach you,” said Jeff.

“It’s like, over under, right?” Kent asked, and Jeff laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s --” his breath caught as Kent pulled at a bit of it.  _ Fuck _ . “It’s over under,” Jeff said. 

A second later, Kent scrubbed his hand over Jeff’s head. “Ah, fuck it,” he said.


	52. you're in my blood like holy wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> august 2016.

Kent was being weird. He’d been weird for the last like, five days, and Jeff wasn’t sure he could take much more of it. They'd just gotten back to Vegas, they needed to get ready for the season, not... whatever Kent was doing. It was distracting.

“Dude,” he said, one morning when they were relaxing with coffee after their run, “what’s up with you? Seriously. And don’t say nothing, because I’ll know you’re lying.”

Kent bit his lower lip. “I --” he sighed. “I’ve, um. I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh boy,” said Jeff.

“Shut up,” Kent said, “I’m serious. I’ve been just kind of, y’know. Thinking about my life. The future. Stuff like that.”

“Okay,” said Jeff. He waited, letting Kent fidget and glance at him a couple times. Sometimes, Kent needed a minute to get things out. He’d always been like that.

“It’s just,” Kent finally said, wrapping both hands around his mug, “Eric and were talking and I realized that every time I think about my life, you’re there.”

Jeff’s mouth went dry. What the fuck did that mean? His heart pounded in his chest.

Kent looked down at his coffee. “Eric thinks, um. Eric thinks that you might --” he bit his lower lip, closing his eyes for a moment. “That you might, um.” His hands tightened on his cup.

This was it. This was the time. He’d been waiting for the  _ right moment _ and this -- “I love you,” Jeff said. His voice was hoarse for no reason, he sounded ridiculous. 

It wasn’t how he’d imagined saying those words at all.

Kent looked up.

“I love you,” Jeff repeated. “I have for a long time. I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even know you were gay at first, and --”

Kent interrupted him. “How long?”

Jeff swallowed. God, he was about to sound so stupid. So, so,  _ so _ fucking stupid. “Since you called Julianna royalty in the airport and made her smile.”

Kent’s eyes widened. “But that was --”

“I know,” Jeff said, cutting him off. “I know when it was.” Six years ago. He was deeply aware.

Kent swallowed. He looked… stricken. “I --”

“It’s okay,” Jeff said, looking down at his hands. Kent’s face said everything, he didn’t need to hear it in words, too. Kent did not feel the same way, no matter what Eric thought. “You don’t have to say anything,” Jeff said. “I know I -- I know you’re not, um. I know you don’t --”

“ _ I love you _ ,” Kent said, the words coming out slow and practiced in Stoney.

Wait. What? Jeff looked back up, stared at Kent’s face for a minute.

Kent didn’t speak Stoney.

After a moment, Kent swallowed. “Um,” he said, cheeks pink, “did I say it wrong? I didn’t learn how to say ‘too’.”

“No,” Jeff said, eyes burning. Fuck. Who taught him? “But --”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” Kent said, twisting shaking hands together, “I just, um. I just wanted to tell you that I love you in the language you were meant to hear it in.”

Oh, fuck. This man. Jeff swallowed again, pulling his lower lip in under his teeth. His stomach hurt.

Kent’s lips pressed together as he stared at Jeff, silent. Finally, he swallowed. “Um,” he said, voice a little rough, “okay. That’s. All right. I, um.” His knuckles were white, hands clenched around the mug in an ever-tightening grip. “Sorry. About this. I --”

Before he knew what he was doing, before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, Jeff stood and reached out, sliding a hand around the back of Kent’s neck. Pulling in close, he pressed their lips together in a heated kiss.

And that, Jeff thought, must be what kissing was like for other people, what songs and books and movies always made it out to be but it hadn’t ever really been for him. It really was like fireworks, like being lit up from the inside out. When they parted, Jeff sucked in a quick breath, bringing a hand up to brush along Kent’s jaw.

“Thank you,” Kent whispered. “I almost --”

“You’re so stupid,” said Jeff. 

“I --” Kent shoved him a little. “ _ You’re _ stupid!”

Jeff kissed him again.


End file.
